The long wait for the coming of the big transports with the regulars was
over. For the first time in history America was sending her soldiery past
the pyramids and through the Indian sea, landing them, after forty days
and nights of voyaging, upon the low, flat shores that hem Manila Bay,
and shoving them out to the hostile front before their sea-legs could
reach the swing and stride of the marching step; yet, to all appearance,
as unconcernedly at home as though they had been campaigning in the
Philippines since the date of their enlistment. This, to be sure, in the
case of more than half their number, would have given them scant time in
which to look about them, since raw recruits were more numerous than
seasoned men. But no matter what may be his lack of drill or preparation
the average Anglo-Saxon never seems to know the time when he doesn't know
how to fight. So, with all the easy assurance of a veteran, our Yankee
"Tommies" wriggled into their blanket rolls and trudged away to the posts
assigned them; and once more the army assumed the aggressive.
There were changes in the composition of the forces even before the move
began. The Dudes and the "Toughs" parted company; and the former, with
Stanley Armstrong once more riding silent at their head, joined forces
with Stewart's riddled regiment up the railway toward Malolos. Colonel
Frost had succeeded in convincing the surgeons that he would be as out of
place as his name itself in such a clime and climate, and was in daily
expectation of an order home. Billy Gray, mending only slowly, had been
sent to Corregidor, where the bracing breezes of the China Sea drove
their tonic forces through his lungs and veins, and the faintly rising
hue of coming health back into his hollow cheeks. The boy had been harder
hit than seemed the case at first, said the fellows of the --teenth; but
the wise young surgeon of the "Second Reserve" and a grave-faced colonel
of infantry could have told of causes little dreamed of in the
regiment--were either given to telling the half of what he knew.
That something most unusual had occurred in the room of Mr. Gray the day
that the sad-faced, kind old general visited the hospital at least half a
dozen patients could have told; for an attendant went running for one of
the women nurses, and the doctor himself hurried to the scene. It was on
his arm that, half an hour later, Mrs. Garrison slowly descended the
stairs, her flimsy white veil down, and silently bowed her thanks and
adieux as the doctor closed the door of her carriage and nodded to the
little coachman. It was the doctor who suggested to Colonel Frost that
Manila air was not conducive to his wife's recovery, and recommended
Nagasaki as the place for her recuperation until he could join her and
take her home. The Esmeralda bore the White Sisters over Hongkong way
within a week; and they left without flourish of trumpet, with hardly the
flutter of a handkerchief; for, since the battle of the 5th of February,
neither had been seen upon the Luneta. Their women friends were very few;
the men they knew were mainly at the front. The story got out somehow
that Garrison had asked to be relieved from further duty as aide-de-camp,
and returned to duty with his regiment, and that Drayton would not have
it. The General's manner toward that hard-working staff officer, though
often preoccupied as of old, grew even kinder. He did not see the sisters
off for China, he was "far too busy" was the explanation; but he offered
Garrison a fortnight's leave, and urged his taking it, and was obviously
troubled when Garrison declined. "You need rest and the change of air
more than any man I know," said he; but Garrison replied that change of
scene and air would not help him.
There were two young fellows in khaki uniforms landed from the hospital
launch on the back trip from Corregidor one warm March day. One wore the
badge of a subaltern of the --teenth Regulars, the other the chevrons of
a corporal and the hatband of a famous fighting regiment of volunteers;
yet the same carriage bore them swiftly through the sentineled streets of
the walled city, and the guards at the Ayuntamiento sprang to their arms
and formed ranks at sight of it, then dispersed at the low-toned order of
its commander when it was seen that, instead of stopping at the curb and
discharging an elderly general officer, it whirled straight by and held
two youths in field uniform.
"One of 'em's young Gray, of the --teenth; he that was hit in the charge
on the Pasay road," said the officer of the guard to a comrade. "But who
the devil's the other? He had corporal's chevrons on. Some fellow just
got a commission, perhaps." And that was the only way the soldier could
account for a corporal riding with a commissioned officer in a general's
carriage. They had a long whirl ahead of them, these two; and the
corporal told Gray, as he already had the General and Colonel Armstrong,
much of the story of his friendship for "Pat" Latrobe, of that poor
fellow's illness at San Francisco, and all the trouble it cost his friend
and chum. There was a strong bond between them, he explained; and the
blush of shame that stole up in the face of the narrator found instant
answer in that of Billy Gray. Determined to see service at the front and
not return to punishment in his regiment, never dreaming that, in
quitting a corps doomed apparently to inaction at home, and joining one
going straight to the enemy's country, he was committing the grave crime
of desertion, "Gov." Prime had spoken to some men in Stewart's regiment
and was bidden to come along and fetch his friend; for they were just as
ignorant as he. Having still considerable money "Gov." had bought
civilian clothes, and all the supplies they needed while about town, and
hired a boat that rowed them, with certain items contraband of war, to
the dark side of the transport as nightfall came; and they were easily
smuggled aboard and into uniform, and then, during the few days' stay at
Honolulu, were formally enlisted and no embarrassing questions asked.
And now poor Pat was gone and Prime's father had been cabling for him to
return home; but there was that awkward matter about the desertion.
General Drayton was trying to have it straightened out at Washington; for
he had been kindness itself the day of his visit to the hospital, where
almost his first act had been to seek out the wounded young soldier who
had been his beloved nephew's boon companion, and at one time sole
support. The sentry was relieved of his surveillance, and Corporal Norton
transferred to Corregidor to recuperate; and now that both lads were well
on the road to recovery, Drayton had sent for them. Strictly speaking,
some one should have seen to it that Corporal Norton of the Volunteers
was shifted back to Private Norton of the --teenth, and the chevrons
stripped from his sleeves; but no one had cared to interfere where the
worsted was concerned, especially as the boy had won such praise for
bravery at Concordia Bridge. So there the chevrons stood when the two
were ushered into the presence of the gray-haired chief; and he arose,
and stepping forward, held out a hand to each.
"I want you, boys," said he, "to be ready to take the next transport
home. The doctors say you need a sea voyage, Gray; so there is the order.
The doctors say your father needs you, Prime; and the record will be duly
straightened out in Washington--the charge of desertion, no doubt, will
be removed. It's a matter of influence. To-night you dine with me here;
and I have asked your good friend, Colonel Armstrong, to come."
Again the blood rose guiltily to Billy's cheek. Not yet had he made his
peace with his conscience, and that valued counselor and invaluable
friend from whose good graces he seemed to have fallen entirely. Not once
had opportunity been afforded in which to speak and open his heart to
him. As for writing, that seemed impossible. Billy could handle almost
any implement better than a pen. But even in the few minutes left him in
which to think he knew that now at least he must "face the music," like
the man his father would have him be, even though it took more nerve than
did that perilous dash on the Tagal works that Sunday morning. Billy
would rather do that twice over than have to face Armstrong's stern,
searching eyes, and hear again the cold, almost contemptuous tone in
which the colonel said to him the day the doctor led his vanquished and
hysterical charmer from the room: "Don't try to thank, man, try to
_think_ what you risk--what you deserve to lose--for putting yourself in
the power of such a woman."
From that day until this, here on the banks of the swift-running Pasig,
they had not met at all; and it seemed to Gray as though Armstrong had
aged a year. There was a lump in his throat as he went straight up to the
colonel, his blue eyes never flinching, though they seemed to fill, and
bravely spoke. "Colonel Armstrong, I have an explanation that I owe to
you. Will you give me a few minutes on the gallery?"
"Certainly, Gray," was the calm reply; and the youngster led the way.
It was a broken story. It told of his desperation and misery through
Canker's persecution, of his severe illness, then of the utter weakness
and prostration; then _her_ coming, and with her comfort, peace,
reassurance, gradual return to health, and with that, gradual surrender
to his nurse's fascinations. Then her demand upon him, her plea, her
final insistence that he should prove his gratitude and devotion by
getting for her those dangerous letters, and his weakness in letting her
believe he could and would do so. That was the situation when they went
on to Manila; and Armstrong knew the rest--knew that but for his timely
aid she might have triumphed over his repentance; but Armstrong had come,
had vanquished her and poor Latrobe's last wishes were observed. The
fateful packet containing the three letters that were most important was
placed in his uncle's trembling hand.
"But how was it--what was it that so utterly crushed her?" asked Billy,
when the colonel had once more extended his hand.
"The evidences of her own forgery, her own guilt," said Armstrong
gravely. "One was the order she wrote in excellent imitation of her
husband's hand and signature, authorizing the changing of guard
arrangements on the wharf the evening Stewart sailed. The other was a
note in pencil, also purporting to come from him, directing old
Keeny--you remember the General's Irish orderly--to search for a packet
of letters that had come by mail, and must be in the general's tent,
either about his desk or overcoat, and to bring them at once to room
number so and so at the Palace. Of course neither the General nor
Garrison was there when he arrived with them; but she was, and with all
her fascinations. She got the Irishman half drunk and told him a piteous
story and made him swear he'd never tell the General or anybody. If
questioned he could plead he had gone out, and--"got a little full with
the boys." She gave him money--a big bit, too; and he got more than full.
"The very vehemence of his denials made me suspect him," said Armstrong;
"but he was firm when examined." The General never required him to remain
at the tent at night. He could go to town any evening he wished; and to
cover his appearing at the Palace where the General long had a room, and
where he was well known, he could say he was only in to have a word with
one of the housemaids, and to give Mrs. Garrison a handkerchief one of
the ladies must have dropped. But one thing she failed in--getting the
letter back. Keeny had left it at camp in the pocket of his old blouse,
and when he sobered up and all the questions were asked he hung onto it
in case the truth came out, in order that he might save himself from
punishment. But it broke him--he got to drinking oftener, and the General
had to send him to his regiment; and then when we heard of Canker's
charge against you I saw the way to wring the truth out of him. He
worshiped your father, as did every Irish dragoon that ever rode under
him, and I told him you were to be brought to trial for the crime. Then
he broke down and gave the truth--and her penciled order--to me."
In the silence that followed the soldier of forty and the lad of only
twenty-one sat looking gravely into each other's face. It was Armstrong
who spoke again:
"Gray, it was manly in you to tell me your story and your trouble. I
could help you here; but--who can help you when you have to tell it--next
time?"
"Next time?--father, do you mean?" queried Gray, a puzzled look in his
blue eyes. "I hadn't thought, do you know, to worry dear old dad--unless
he asked."
Armstrong's grave face grew dark: "You ought to know what I mean, Gray.
This story may come up when least you think for, and--would you have it
told Miss Lawrence before she hears it from you?"
"Miss Lawrence," answered Billy, flushing, "isn't in the least
interested."
"Do you mean that you are not--that you were not engaged to her?" The
colonel had been gazing out over the swirling river; but now, with
curious contraction of brows, with a strong light in his eyes, he had
turned full on the young officer.
"Engaged to her! Do you suppose I could have been--been such an ass if
_she_ would have had me? No! She--she had too much sense."
It was full a minute before Armstrong spoke again. For a few seconds he
sat motionless, gazing steadily into Gray's handsome, blushing face; then
he turned once more and looked out over the Pasig and the scarred level
of the rice fields beyond. And the long slant of the sunshine on distant
towers and neighboring roofs and copse and wall, and the unlovely
landscape seemed all tinged with purple haze and tipped with gold. The
blare of a bugle summoning the men to supper seemed softened by distance,
or some new, strange intonation, and gave to the ugliest of all our
service calls the effect of soft, sweet melody; and there was sympathy
and genuine feeling in the deep voice as he once again held out his hand
to Billy.
"Forgive me, lad, for I judged you more harshly than you deserved."
One lovely, summer-like evening, some five weeks later, in long, heaving
surges the deep blue waves of the Pacific came lazily rolling toward the
palm-bordered beach at Waikiki, bursting into snowy foam on the pebbly
strand, and, softly hissing, swept like fleecy mantle up the slope of
wet, hard-beaten sand, then broke, lapping and whirling, about the stone
supports of the broad _lanai_ of one of the many luxurious homes that dot
the curving line of the bay to the east of Honolulu. Dimly outlined in
the fairy moonlight, the shadowy mountains of the Waianai Range lay low
upon the western horizon. Eastward the bare, bold volcanic upheaval of
Diamond Head gleamed in bold relief, reflecting the silver rays. Here and
there through the foliage shone the soft-colored fires of Chinese
lanterns, and farther away, along the concave shore, distant electric
lights twinkled like answering signals to the stars in the vault of blue,
and the "riding lights" of the few transports or warships, swinging at
anchor on the tide.
From a little grove of palms close to the low sea wall came the soft
tinkle of guitar, and now and then a burst of joyous song, while under
the spreading roof of the broad portico or _lanai_, the murmur of voices,
the occasional ripple of musical laughter, the floating haze of cigarette
smoke, told where a party of worshipers were gathered, rejoicing in the
loveliness of nature and the night.
It was a reunited party, too, and in the welcome of their winsome
hostess, in the soft, soothing influence of that summer clime, and
through the healing tonic of the long sea voyage, faces that had been
saddened by deep anxiety but a few weeks gone, smiled gladness into one
another now. A tall, gray-haired man reclined in an easy lounging chair,
his eyes intent on the clear-cut face of a young soldier in trim white
uniform who, with much animation, was telling of an event in the recent
campaign. By his side, her humid eyes following his every gesture, sat a
tall, dark, stylish girl, whose hand from time to time crept forth to
caress his--an evident case of sister worship. Close at hand another
young fellow, in spotless white, his curly head bent far forward, his
elbows on his knees, his fingertips joining, was studying silently the
effect of his comrade's story on another--a fair girl whose sweet face,
serene and composed, was fully illumined by the silvery light of the
unclouded moon. "Coming by transport, via Honolulu"--"Gov.'s" cabled
message had brought father and sister to meet him at these famed
"Cross-roads of the Pacific," and whither they journeyed Amy Lawrence,
too, must go, said they; and, glad of opportunity to see the land of
perennial bloom and sunshine, and wearied with long, long months of labor
in the service of the Red Cross, the girl had willingly accepted their
invitation. Coaled and provisioned the transport had pushed on for the
seven-day run for San Francisco; but the recovering of his long-lost son
and the soft, reposeful atmosphere of the lovely, yet isolated island
group, had so benefited Mr. Prime that in family council it had been
decided wise for them to spend a week or ten days longer at the Royal
Hawaiian; and the boys had found no difficulty in "holding over" for the
Sedgwick that followed swift upon the heels of their own ship. Five
joyous days had they together, and this, the fifth, had been spent in
sightseeing beyond the lofty Pali of the northward side. The "O. & O."
liner was coming in from Yokohama even as they drove away; and as they
sat at dinner on the open _lanai_, long hours later, it had been
mentioned by their host that the Sedgwick, too, had reached the harbor
during the afternoon, and that army people were passengers on both liner
and transport. Billy Gray, for one, began to wish that dinner were over.
He was eager to get the latest news from the Philippines, and the
Sedgwick left Manila full a week behind their slower craft.
"Did you hear who came with her?" he somewhat eagerly asked, "or on the
Doric?" he continued, with less enthusiasm.
"I did not," was the answer--"that is, on the Sedgwick;" and the
gentleman baited lamely and glanced furtively and appealingly at his
wife. There was that embarrassing, interrogative silence that makes one
feel the futility of concealment. It was Miss Lawrence who quickly came
to his relief and dispelled the strain on the situation.
"I should fancy very few army people would choose that roundabout way
from Manila when they can come direct by transport, and have the ship to
themselves."
"Well--er--yes; certainly, certainly," answered the helpless master of
the house, dodging now the warning and reproach in the eyes of his wiser
mate at the other end of the table. The crack of a coachman's whip and
the swift beat of trotting hoofs on the graveled road in front could be
heard as he faltered on. The gleam of cab lights came floating through
the northward shrubbery. "Except, of course, when they happen to
be--er--already, well, you know, at Hongkong or Nagasaki," he lamely
concluded.
There was an instant hurried glance exchanged between Gray and Prime.
Then up spoke in silvery tone their hostess:
"Other officers, you know, are ordered home. We have just heard to-day
that Colonel Frost comes very soon. His health seems quite shattered. I
believe--you knew--of them--slightly that is to say, Miss Prime, did you
not?" But even with her words she cast an anxious, furtive glance along
the dim reach of the _lanai_, for the pit-a-pat of footfalls, the swish
of feminine draperies was distinctly heard. Two dainty, white-robed forms
came floating into view, and, with changing color, their hostess suddenly
arose and stepped forward to meet them. Just one second of silence
intervened, then, all grace and gladness, smiles and cordiality, both her
little hands outstretched, Mrs. Frank Garrison came dancing into their
midst, her sister more timidly following.
"_Dear_ Mrs. Marsden, how perfectly (kiss, kiss) delicious! Yes, this is
the baby sister I've raved to you about. We go right on with the Doric;
but I _had_ to bring her out with me that you might have just one glance
at her. Why! Mr. Prime! Why, what could be more charming than to find you
here? And 'Gov.' _too_--you wicked boy! What won't I do to you for never
telling me you were in Manila? And Mildred!" (kiss--kiss, despite a
palpable dodge and heightened color on part of the half-dazed recipient).
"And you, too, Miss Lawrence?" (Both hands, but no kiss--one hand calmly
accepted). "Ah, then I know how happy _you_ are, Mr. Willie Gray!"
(beaming arch smiles upon that flushed and flustered young officer. Then,
turning again to twine a jeweled arm about the slim waist of their
hostess, to whom she clung as though defying any effort to dislodge, yet
pleading for protection): "Who on earth could have foretold that we of
all people should have met out here--of all places? How long did you say
you had been here? A week? And of course, dear Mrs. Marsden has done
everything to make it lovely for you. _I_ should have _died_ without
her." And so the swift play of words went on, the rapid fire of her
fluent tongue covering the movement of her allies and drowning all
possibility of reply. It was an odd and trying moment. Mrs. Marsden, well
knowing, as who in Honolulu did not, of Mrs. Frank's devotion to the
young lieutenant, barely six months agone, was striving to welcome the
shrinking little scare-faced thing that blindly and helplessly had
drifted in in the elder sister's wake. The introductions that followed,
after the American fashion, were as perfunctory as well-bred women can
permit. The greetings were almost solemn, smileless, and, on part of
Nita, fluttering to the verge of a faint; and nothing but Witchie's
plucky and persistent support, and the light flow of airy chat and
laughter, carried her through the ordeal. The two young soldiers stood
stiffly back, red-faced and black-browed; the father, pallid and cold,
could hardly force himself to unbend, yet his lips mumbled the name "Mrs.
Frost," as he bowed at presentation; Miss Prime stood erect and
trembling; Miss Lawrence, with brave eyes but heightened color. To leave
at once was impossible; to remain was more than embarrassment. Most
gallantly did they battle, Mrs. Marsden and Mrs. Frank, to lift the wet
blanket from the group and relieve the strain. Reward came to crown their
efforts in strange, unlooked-for fashion. Hoofs, wheels and flashing
lights were again at the entrance gate, even as Mrs. Frank, sparkling
with animation, distributing her gay good humor over the silent
semicircle, suddenly exclaimed: "Oh, if I'd _only_ known you were here, I
could have provided the one thing to make our reunion complete! If we
were not going on at daybreak I should do it yet." Then hoofs and wheels
and lights had come to a stop at the front of the house, and in measured,
martial tread a man's footsteps were heard upon the _lanai_. Then, all of
a sudden, with a cry of joy, Witchie burst in again: "_Should_ do it?--I
shall do it! Said I not I was the fairy queen? Behold me summon my
subjects from the ends of the obedient earth!" And, waving her parasol as
she would a wand, gayly pirouetting as she had that night in the tent at
old Camp Merritt, she danced forward: "Sound ye the trumpets, slaves!
Hail to the chief! See the conquering hero comes! Enter Brevet
Brigadier-General Stanley Armstrong!--though his arm is anything but
strong."
Bowing gravely to the sprite in front of him, vaguely to the group in the
shaded light at the edge of the _lanai_, and joyously to the little
hostess, as almost hysterically she sprang forward and clasped his hands,
the colonel of the Primeval Dudes stood revealed before them.
"_Colonel_ Armstrong! How--when did you get here? What does this mean? Is
your arm quite well again? Why _didn't_ you let us know you were coming?"
were the questions rained upon him by Mrs. Marsden, immediately followed
by the somewhat illogical statement that she was actually breathless with
surprise.
"Shall I answer in their order?" said he, smiling down at her flushed and
joyous face. "By the Sedgwick. This afternoon. That I wished to see you.
Doing quite well. Because I didn't know myself until two days before we
sailed." Then, as he stood peering beyond her, she would have turned him
to her other guests had not Mrs. Garrison made instant and impulsive rush
upon him.
"As fairy queen or fairy godmother I claim first speech," she gayly
cried. "What tidings of my liege lord, and where is hers, my fairy
sister's?" she demanded, waving in front of him her filmy parasol and
pirouetting with almost girlish grace.
"Captain Garrison was looking fairly well the day I sailed," he answered
briefly; "and Colonel Frost left for Hongkong only a few hours before in
hopes, as we understood, of finding Mrs. Frost at Yokohama. Permit me,"
he added, with grave courtesy. "I have but little time as I transfer to
the Doric to-night."
A shade spread over the radiant face one instant, but was as quickly
swept away. "And I have not met your guests," he finished, turning to
Mrs. Marsden, as he spoke, and quietly passing Mrs. Garrison in so doing.
The next moment he was shaking hands with the entire party, coming last
of all to Amy Lawrence.
"They told me of your being here," he said, looking straight into her
clear, beautiful eyes; "and I thought I might find you at Mrs. Marsden's.
She was our best friend when we were in Honolulu. They told me, too, that
you desired to go by the Doric, but feared she would be crowded," he
continued, turning to Mr. Prime. "There is one vacant stateroom now; its
occupants have decided to stay over and visit the islands. There will be,
I think, another." And drawing a letter from an inner pocket he calmly
turned to Nita, now shrinking almost fearfully behind her sister. "The
colonel gave this to me to hand to you, Mrs. Frost, on the chance of your
being here. He will arrive by next week's steamer, and, pardon me, it is
something I think you should see at once as a change in your plans may be
necessary."
It was vain for Margaret to interpose. The letter was safely lodged in
her sister's hands, and with so significant a message that it had to be
opened and read without delay. Gayly excusing herself, and with a low
reverence and comprehensive smile to the assembled party, she ushered her
sister into the long parlor, and the curtain fell behind them. There
followed a few minutes of brisk conference upon the _lanai_, the Marsdens
pleading against, the father and daughter for, immediate return to the
hotel, there to claim the vacated rooms aboard the steamer. In the eager
discussion, pro and con, both young soldiers joined, both saying "go,"
and promising to follow by the Sedgwick. In this family council, despite
the vivid interest Armstrong felt in the result, neither Amy Lawrence nor
himself took any part. Side by side at the snowy railing over the
breaking sea they stood almost silent listeners. Suddenly there came from
the front again the sound of hoofs and wheels, loud and distinct at the
start, then rapidly dying away with the increasing distance. Miss
Lawrence turned and looked inquiringly into the eyes she well knew were
fixed upon her. Mrs. Marsden hesitated one moment, then stepped across
the _lanai_, peered into the parlor and entered. It was a minute before
she returned, and in that minute the decisive vote was cast, the carriage
ordered.
"Oh, I ought to have known how it would be if I left you a moment!" she
cried despairingly, on her reappearance, a little folded paper in her
hand. "But at least you must stay half an hour. We can telephone direct
to the dock and secure the staterooms, if go you must on the Doric. Yes,"
she continued, lowering her voice, "they are not going farther until
Colonel Frost comes. Mrs. Garrison explains that her sister was really
too ill and too weak to come out here, but she thought the drive might do
her good. She thought best to slip quietly away with her, and bids me say
good-night to you all."
So, when next day the Doric sailed, four new names appeared upon the
passenger list, and the last men down the stage already "trembling on the
rise," were two young fellows in white uniform, who turned as they sprang
to the dock and waved their jaunty caps. "Join you in ten days at
'Frisco!" shouted the shorter of the two, gazing upward and backward at
the quartette on the promenade deck. "Oh! beg a thousand pardons," he
added hastily, as he bumped against some slender object, and, wheeling
about to pick up a flimsy white fan, he found himself face to face with
Witchie Garrison, kerchief waving, beaming, smiling, throwing kisses
innumerable to the party he had so lately left. The hot blood rushed to
his forehead, an angry light to his eyes, as she nodded blithely,
forbearingly, forgivingly at him. "Dear boy," she cried, in her clear,
penetrating treble, "how could you be expected to see any one after
leaving--her?" But Gov.'s arm was linked in his at the very instant and
led him glowering away, leaving her close to the edge of the crowded
dock, smiling sweetness, blessing and bliss upon a silent and
unresponsive group, and waving kerchief and kisses to them until, far
from shore, the Doric headed out to sea.
* * * * *
They were nearing home again. Day and night for nearly a week the good
ship had borne them steadily onward over a sea of deepest blue, calm and
unruffled as the light that shone in Amy's eyes. Hours of each
twenty-four Armstrong had been the constant companion, at first of the
trio, then of the two--for Mr. Prime had found a kindred spirit in a
veteran merchant homeward bound from China--then of one alone; for Miss
Prime had found another interest, and favor in the eyes of a young
tourist paying his first visit to our shores, and so it happened that
before the voyage, all too brief, was half over, Amy Lawrence and
Armstrong walked the spacious deck for hours alone or sat in sheltered
nooks, gazing out upon the sea. The soft, summer breezes of the first few
days had given place to keener, chillier air. The fog ahead told of the
close proximity of the Farallones. Heavier wraps had replaced the soft
fabrics of the Hawaiian saunterings. But warmth and gladness, coupled
with a strange new shyness in his presence, were glowing in her fresh
young heart. One day she had said to him: "You have not told me how you
came to leave there--just now," and it was a moment before he answered.
"That was the surgeons' doing. They sent me back from the front because
the wound did not properly heal, and then ordered a sea voyage until it
did; but I turn back at once from San Francisco."
She was silent a few seconds. This was unlooked for and unwelcome news.
"I thought," she said, "at least Gov. heard Dr. Frank say it would be
four months before you could use that arm." She plucked at the fringe of
the heavy shawl he had wrapped about her as she reclined in the low
steamer chair; but the white lids veiled her eyes.
"Possibly," answered Armstrong; "but you see I do not have to use it much
at any time. I'm all right otherwise, and there will soon be need of me."
"More campaigning?" she anxiously inquired, her eyes one moment
uplifting.
"Probably. Those fellows have no idea of quitting."
Another interval of silence. The long, lazy, rolling swell of the Pacific
had changed during the day to an abrupt and tumultuous upheaval that
tossed the Doric like a cork and made locomotion a problem. The rising
wind and sea sent the spray whirling from her bows, and Mildred's young
man, casting about for a dry corner, had deposited his fair charge on a
bench along the forward deck house and was scouting up and down for
steamer chairs. Armstrong had drawn his close to that in which Miss
Lawrence reclined, her knitted steamer cap pulled well forward over her
brow. His feet were braced against a stanchion. His eyes were intent upon
her sweet face. He had no thought for other men, even those in similar
plight. His gaze, though unhampered by the high peak of his forage cap,
comprehended nothing beyond the rounded outline of that soft cheek. Her
eyes, well-nigh hidden by her shrouding "Tam," saw the searching son of
Albion and told her his need. The best of women will find excuse for
interruption at such moments when sure of the devotion of the man who
sits with a fateful question quivering on his lips; and, even when she
longs to hear those very words, will find means to defer them as a kitten
dallies with a captured mouse or a child saves to the very last the
sweetest morsel of her birthday cake. Not ten minutes before, when the
Honorable Bertie Shafto had started impulsively toward the vacant chair
by Armstrong's side, a firm hand detained him, and Miss Prime had hastily
interposed. "Not on any account!" said she, imperiously. "Can't you see?"
And Mr. Shafto, adjusting his monocle, had gazed long and fixedly, and
then, transferring his gaze to her, had said:
"Eh--eh--yes. It's not ours, I suppose you mean."
But now Amy Lawrence was beckoning, and he made a rush for the rail, then
worked his way aft, hand over hand. Every movable on deck was taking a
sudden slant to starboard, and the sea went hissing by almost on level
with the deck as next she spoke. "Surely a soldier needs both arms in
battle, and you--Oh, certainly, Mr. Shafto, take that chair," she added.
Armstrong glanced up suddenly.
"Oh! that you, Shafto? Yes; take it by all means."
Anything, thought he, rather than that they should come here. The young
Briton stepped easily past between them and the rail--behind there was no
room--and, swinging the long, awkwardly modeled fabric to his broad
shoulder, started back just as a huge wave heaved suddenly under the
counter, heeled the steamer far over to port, threw him off his balance,
and, his foot catching at the bottom of her chair, hurled him, load and
all, straight at Amy's reclining form. One instant, and even her uplifted
hands could not have saved her face; but in that instant Armstrong had
darted in, caught the stumbling Briton on one arm, and the full force of
the shooting chair crashing upon the other, already pierced by Filipino
lead.
When, a moment later she emerged, safe and unscratched from the confused
heap of men and furniture, it was to cut off instantly the stutter and
stammer of poor Shafto's apologies, to bid him go instantly for the
ship's doctor, and, with face the color of death, to turn quickly to
Armstrong. The blow had burst open the half-healed wound, and the blood
was streaming to the deck.
* * * * *
Both liner and transport turned back without Stanley Armstrong, Doric and
Sedgwick sailed unheeded, for the highest surgical authority of the
Department of California had remanded him to quarters at the Palace and
forbidden his return to duty with an unhealed wound. He was sitting up
again, somewhat pallid and not too strong, but with every promise, said
the "medico," of complete recovery within two months. But not a month
would Armstrong wait. The Puebla was to start within the week, and he had
made up his mind. "Go," said he, "I must."
They had been sitting about him, the night this opinion was announced, in
the parlor of the suite of rooms the Primes had taken. Billy Gray had
gone with his father to the club, Shafto had been hanging about in the
agonies of an Englishman's first love, Gov. disappeared a moment and came
back with tickets for the Columbia, bidding Mildred get her hat and
gloves at once, and whispering Shafto that he had a seat for him. As the
little mantel clock struck eight Amy Lawrence, lifting up her eyes from
the book she was trying hard to believe she meant to read, saw that
Armstrong was rising from his easy-chair, and, springing to his side,
laying her white hand on his arm, she faltered, "Oh, please! You know the
stipulation was that you were not to stir."
But then her heart began to flutter uncontrollably. The blood went
surging to her brows, for all of a sudden, as through impulse
irresistible, her hand was seized in his--in both of his, in fact--and
the deep voice that had pleaded at her behest for the cause of Billy Gray
was now, in impetuous flow of words that fell upon her ears like some
strain of thrilling music, pleading at last his own. Ever since that day
in the radiant sunshine of the Park she had learned to look up to him as
a tower of strength, a man of mark among his fellows, a man to be honored
and obeyed. Ever since that night at the Palace, when she saw his glowing
eyes fixed intently upon her, and knew that he was following her every
move, she had begun to realize the depth of his interest in her. Ever
since that day when the China slipped from her moorings, with Witchie
Garrison singling him out for lavish farewell favors, she had wondered
why it so annoyed and stung her. Ever since the day she read the list of
killed and wounded in the first fierce battling with the "Insurrectos"
she knew it was the sight of his name, not Billy Gray's, that made her
for the moment faint and dizzy, and taught her the need of greater
self-control. Ever since that moonlit night upon the Marsden's _lanai_,
when her heart leaped at the sudden sound of his voice, she had realized
what his coming meant to her, and ever since that breezy day upon the
broad Pacific, with the sailor's song of "Land ho!" ringing from the
bows, and he, her wounded soldier, had sprung to shield her from the
crash of Shafto's hapless stumble, and the deck was stained with the
precious blood from that soldier's reopened wound, shed for her--for her
who so revered him--she had longed to hear him say the words that alone
could unlock the gates of maidenly reserve and let her tell him--tell him
with glad and grateful heart that the love he bore her was answered by
her own. Hovering over him only one minute, her lips half parted, her
eyes still veiled, her heart throbbing loud and fast, with sudden
movement she threw herself upon her knees at the side of the low chair,
and her burning face, ever so lightly, was buried in the dark-blue sleeve
above that blessed wound.
THE END.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
GROSSET & DUNLAP'S
Desirable Editions of Popular Books
The following books are printed from new, large type plates, on fine laid
paper of excellent quality, and durably and handsomely bound in the best
silk finished book cloth, each with a handsome and distinctive cover
design.
They are in every way superior to any other editions at the same price.
They are for sale by all booksellers, or will be mailed by the
publishers on receipt of FIFTY CENTS PER VOLUME
BLACK ROCK, by Ralph Connor
THE MARBLE FAUN, by Nathaniel Hawthorne
BEULAH, by Augusta J. Evans
MACARIA, " " "
INEZ, " " "
EVANGELINE, (with 50 illustrations) by Henry W. Longfellow
HIAWATHA, by Henry W. Longfellow
BITTER SWEET, by J. G. Holland
AN ENGLISHWOMAN'S LOVE LETTERS
ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers
11 EAST SIXTEENTH ST., NEW YORK
The Letters of Alphonse
"MEMBER OF THE FRENCH JOURNALISM"
By ALEX. KENEALY
Alphonse is an accredited correspondent of a Parisian journal and gives
his impression of things American as he sees them, in a series of letters
to his "small Journal for to Read." Their seemingly unconscious humor is
so deliciously absurd that it will convulse the reader with laughter in
nearly every line. There is no dialect in them, and their humor lies
entirely in the peculiar views set forth, as well as the grotesque
language in which they are expressed. No book so genuinely funny has been
published in a decade, and the fun is in an entirely new vein. Alphonse's
description of a ride in an "upstairs berth" of a sleeping car, should be
read by every regular or occasional traveler.
Cloth bound, small 12 mo. with illustrations and cover design by F. Opper.
PRICE, SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS
On Many Greens
By MILES BANTOCK
With an Introduction by Findlay S. Douglas
A book for "Duffers" as well as Golfers, being a compilation of clever
things about the Ancient and Royal Game and those who play it. Every
golfer and most of those who are not golfers should read this little book.
It contains a little that is serious and much that is pure fun, collected
from all sorts of sources, and edited by a golf enthusiast.
Just the thing to read aloud to your friends, or to while away the
monotony of a rainy afternoon or a dull railway journey.
12 mo. cloth, with many decorations and illustrations.
PRICE, ONE DOLLAR
Either of the above books at all booksellers or sent postpaid by the
publishers.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, 11 East 16th St., New York
A Beautifully Illustrated Edition
of Longfellow's soul-stirring poem
EVANGELINE
Printed on super-calandered paper, and containing thirty full-page half
tone and many text illustrations.
Bound in Cloth, with handsome Cover Design in silver and ink. Gilt Tops.
Price, Fifty Cents
Grosset & Dunlap
11 East Sixteenth Street
New York City
KIPLING'S POEMS
BARACK-ROOM BALLADS, DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES, and OTHER BALLADS and VERSES,
Including RECESSIONAL and THE VAMPIRE.
By RUDYARD KIPLING
Two volumes in one, with Glossary. Fourteen characteristic full-page pen
and ink drawings by Charles D. Farrand and others, together with the best
and most recent portrait of the author. Handsomely bound in cloth, gilt
tops, and printed on old Chester antique deckle edge paper.
Size 5-1/4 × 7-5/8 inches, 340 pages.
PRICE ONE DOLLAR AND TWENTY-FIVE CENTS
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS
11 East 16th Street : : New York
KIPLING'S RECESSIONAL
EDITION DE LUXE, WITH LARGE PORTRAIT
A perfect reproduction of Wm. Strang's recent etching of Mr. Kipling, by
far the best portrait yet given to the public. The picture itself is a
photogravure, size 9 × 11-1/4, enclosed in a portfolio of extra thick
deckle-edge Strathmore cover paper, size 12-1/2 × 20 inches open, and 12-
1/2 × 9-1/2 inches closed, with a beautiful cover design in colors on the
front cover, and the immortal "Recessional" printed on the inner side of
the flaps. It is designed to be a finished production as it is especially
appropriate for mantel or bookshelf, or the picture can be removed for
framing if desired, as it is only lightly pasted at the top. We offer this
as the best portrait of Mr. Kipling obtainable, and think in no other form
is the "Recessional" so desirable.
PRICE FIFTY CENTS
BOOKLET EDITION
A beautiful and dainty little edition, printed in two colors on fine
deckle-edge paper, and bound in deckle edge covers, with artistic design
in blue and silver. With a fine half-tone portrait of the author.
PRICE TEN CENTS
Either of the above sent postpaid on receipt of price.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS
11 East 16th Street : : New York
THE BLACK HOMER OF JIMTOWN
A Book of Real "Coon" Stories
By ED. MOTT
The best collection of negro dialect stories. Especially adapted for
Public or Private Readings. Any reader who can successfully "swing" this
quaint dialect will be able to extract a world of pleasure and amusement
both for himself and his hearers.
The Buffalo News says: "It is the best thing in 'Coon' Stories in many a
day."
12 mo : Cloth : Price, $1.25
GROSSET & DUNLAP
11 East Sixteenth Street: New York
Other of
CHAS. M. SHELDON'S WORKS
practically uniform in size and style of binding with "In His Steps."
Price, Fifty Cents per Volume
Robert Hardy's Seven Days
The Twentieth Door
The Crucifixion of Philip Strong
His Brother's Keeper
Richard Bruce
John King's Question Class
Grosset & Dunlap
11 East Sixteenth Street
New York City
A SUPERIOR EDITION AT A MODERATE PRICE OF
Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám
Rendered into English verse by Edward Fitzgerald. A new edition of the
Persian Classic, being a correct version of the text of the Fourth
Edition, together with accurate notes, a biography of both Omar and
Fitzgerald, and a Poetical Tribute by Andrew Lang. Beautifully printed in
two colors on old Chester deckle edge paper, with decorative borders by
Charles D. Farrand, fourteen half-tone illustrations by Gilbert James, and
a portrait of Fitzgerald. In every way a superior edition at a moderate
price. Gilt tops, attractively bound in cloth and gold,
Size 5-1/4 × 7-5/8.
PRICE ONE DOLLAR AND TWENTY-FIVE CENTS
BOOKLET EDITION
Beautifully and daintily printed in two colors on fine
laid paper, with Persian cover design, 24 pages, containing
the complete text of the fourth edition of Fitzgerald's
translation.
PRICE TEN CENTS
Sent postpaid on receipt of price.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS
11 East 16th Street : : New York
End of Project Gutenberg's Found in the Philippines, by Charles King