* * * * *
The "Arcadian" rested lazily at anchor just outside the harbor,
apparently as willing as other visitors to drift on the tide of peace
and contentment. The coils of smoke, rising straight upward from its
funnels, supplied the only sign of intended departure. The bustle and
activity usually attendant upon a sailing seemed absent, and the boat
lay there like a pleasure-yacht ready to take on board its master's
guests.
This impression deepened as the passengers from the tender were
transferred on board and moved about the spacious decks, visiting their
state-rooms resplendent with inviting brass bedsteads in place of the
discouraging berths, and inspecting the swimming-pool.
"You must be sure of your weather before you indulge yourself there,"
Cosden remarked. "They told us, coming down, of a dignified British
admiral who was tempted to a plunge, but no sooner was he in the pool
than a young cyclone struck the boat, and for twenty minutes he was
thrown forwards and backwards and sideways in spite of the efforts of
the stewards to get him out. As he weighed nearly three hundred pounds
the situation became serious. Finally, when the water was drawn off, he
was dragged upon the stone slabs more dead than alive and held there
until the storm abated, indifferent to the dignity of his person or to
the glory of the British navy."
"That ought to act as an excellent flesh-reducer," Huntington commented.
"Perhaps it would serve in my efforts to alter my lines for speed."
"I don't see that you need it," Edith laughed; "but we'll all be down to
give encouragement."
"About that time you'll be making love to your little brass bedstead,"
remarked Mrs. Thatcher.
Edith's face fell. "I forgot all about that!" she cried aghast. "You
don't think it will be as rough going back as it was coming down, do
you? Oh! I forgot all about that!"
"It's certain to be bad enough to make you feel 'very annoyed,'" Marian
confirmed maliciously.
"Let's go on deck," Ricky Stevens said with a sudden show of interest;
"it's so awfully stuffy down here!"
Edith gave him a glance of approval. "For once in your life, Richard
Stevens, you have a real idea. I can feel the boat beginning to roll
now."
"Nonsense!" Huntington laughed, "we're scarcely out of the harbor yet;
but the deck is much the better place; we are passing close to the shore
and this last view of the islands is beautiful. We shall have ample
opportunity to inspect the boat later on."
"I've seen all I want to," Edith asserted, as they started back to the
companion way. "It was silly of me to forget that awful experience
coming down. I am sure the boat is rolling, in spite of your denials."
"Then look," Huntington insisted, as they stepped out on the deck again.
"You could navigate this sea in a canoe."
"Well, anyway," she compromised, "I shall be much more comfortable in my
little steamer chair, so lead me to it."
Mrs. Thatcher, still affected by her last sight of Hamlen, was glad to
sit down beside her friend while the others walked up and down the
decks, watching the passing panorama of the shore, knowing that it would
last too short a time at best.
"Marian," Edith said suddenly, "I have a presentiment that I shall die
of seasickness on this trip home, and there is something I want to say
to you while I can."
"No one ever died of seasickness, child," Marian laughed; "but if you
have something serious on your conscience the sooner you get it off the
better."
"It's Mr. Cosden," Edith explained.
"I noticed that something had gone wrong in that quarter. Has he escaped
you, after all?"
"It is really too bad of you to take advantage of me when I'm so ill!"
"My poor Edith!" Marian said soothingly, "forgive me, dear; I forgot
your serious condition for the moment. Tell me about Mr. Cosden."
"He is impossible," the invalid announced. "I really thought there was
some hope for him until a few days ago, but he is so frightfully
commercial that he crocks."
"He--what?"
"It comes off on everything he touches. He can't look at anything from
any other standpoint. It's a tragic disappointment to me, and I think
it just as well that I am going to expire from this awful seasickness. I
really thought I could train him, but he's too crude. That is the only
word to use."
"He can't be that or he couldn't be Monty Huntington's friend. I rather
like him. He's blunt and matter-of-fact and all that; but I like to see
a man with confidence in himself."
"I have an idea that Mr. Huntington has somewhat revised his opinions. I
certainly have; and whatever anybody else may think I agree with
myself."
"That ought to be comforting to you, my dear; but I'm really sorry
things haven't pulled through this time. I'm afraid it's your last
chance. What did he do that was crude,--refuse to propose?"
Edith sat bolt upright, her cheeks flaming, with all signs of her recent
indisposition vanished.
"I hate you in that tantalizing mood, Marian Thatcher! You always put
the meanest interpretation on everything! Of course he proposed, but he
didn't do it in a nice way; he just figured it out as if it was one of
his business deals, and made me feel as if I ought to go right to the
shipping department and get packed up."
"My dear Edith," Marian expostulated; "you mustn't be so fastidious. It
doesn't make so much difference how these men propose; the main thing is
to have them do it. Truly, I'm disappointed in you! Here you have been
working desperately to lead him to a point where he would let you put
the ball and chain on him, and then, for some silly little reason, you
let him get away from you! Really, I'm disappointed! From what I've
seen, you two seem admirably suited to each other."
"You don't understand, Marian," she protested; "he made this trip for
the express purpose of picking out a wife--"
"In Bermuda? Why couldn't he find one nearer home?"
"The girl he had selected for the distinguished honor was in Bermuda--"
Marian Thatcher was interested. Her amusement over her friend's
annoyances, real or imagined, became tempered by curiosity, and that
changed a passing incident into an event.
"He told you this and yet proposed to you? Who was the other girl?"
"You really don't know?"
"Certainly not. Why should I know? This is all news to me."
"I'm glad to be able to tell you something, my dear Marian," Edith said
complacently. "You are so terribly superior it really cheers me up to
have the chance to add to your knowledge, even in a small way. Mr.
Cosden came down here for the purpose of proposing to Merry."
"To Merry!" Marian cried. "That man had the audacity to think he could
marry my child! Well, upon my soul! Why, he never saw her more than two
or three times before he came to Bermuda! How could he possibly have
fallen in love--"
"In love!" Edith laughed. "Love? That's a real joke! Mr. Cosden has
never dealt in that commodity! I tell you, Marian, he just picks out the
thing he wants, and then he gets it--"
"He could never get _my_ daughter."
"But you just said you admired men who had confidence in themselves--"
"I didn't say I cared for men with such unmitigated nerve as that. The
idea!"
"You thought us well suited to each other."
"Certainly I did; that's an entirely different matter. You are just as
mercenary as he, and I think you would make a perfect team,--but Merry!
Ho, ho! The audacity of it!"
Sitting on the edge of her steamer chair Marian tapped the deck
excitedly with her toe and carefully adjusted an imaginary crease in her
skirt. Suddenly she turned again to her companion.
"So he came down to get Merry,--and proposed to you?"
"Yes; rather well manoeuvered, wasn't it? You see, don't you, that my
mercenary instincts saved you from an unpleasant maternal duty?"
"I bless you for it," Marian said heartily; "but you've refused him, so
that leaves him loose to begin over again. He's not safe yet."
"I wouldn't worry about that just now," Edith reassured her. "Mr. Cosden
has learned a few things since he has been under my instruction, and I
think he will be less precipitate."
"Why don't you continue the good work and polish him up for yourself?
You must have found some good points or you wouldn't have gone to all
this trouble."
"No, Marian; it's too big a contract. I once had hopes but they are
gone. The first thing I knew he'd have me packed up in spite of myself
and shipped off somewhere. I'm very disappointed, but I dare not take
the chance."
It was fortunate, if Miss Stevens was to unburden her heart to her
friend at all, that she acted so promptly, for after the headland of St.
George's and St. David's light-house faded away in the distance it
became apparent that the elements were not kindly disposed toward those
on board the "Arcadian." The air became oppressive in its sultriness,
and the clouds gathered ominously. Within an hour the calmness of the
sea was forgotten. The little party playing shuffleboard found it
difficult to keep their feet, and of a sudden a sharp, vicious squall
struck the boat, sending all uncertain passengers to their state-rooms.
Luncheon, served with difficulty, found a reasonable number at their
seats, but by dinner-time the "good sailors" might have selected any
locations they chose. Nature had declared a division, and the state-room
stewards found far greater demand upon their services than did those in
the dining-saloon. The majority of the passengers simply endured until
the safe haven of New York harbor might be reached, the minority
adjusted themselves to the conditions and made the most of them.
Merry and Huntington were among the fortunate minority.
"At last I have found something to struggle against!" she cried
enthusiastically during the storm, as they stood in a sheltered position
on deck watching the quivering steamer plow steadfastly through the
great waves.
"Still eager for a struggle!" Huntington exclaimed smiling,
understanding the spirit of the girl better than he cared to
acknowledge. "I don't like to think of you as struggling at all."
"I must," she said firmly. "Unless I do, I feel myself slipping
backwards."
"Of course," he admitted, "struggling means development, yet my wish for
you is freedom from anything which opposes. Is it selfishness on my
part, this desire to keep you as you are, or is it merely another of
those paradoxes of which life is made up?"
"Whatever it is," Merry answered simply, "I know that your wish is for
my good, for I know you are my friend."
She turned toward him as she spoke and looked full in his face with an
expression of confidence in her own which tested Huntington's
self-denial. But the years--the inexorable years--were there!
"It is you who have made me realize the necessity of struggling," she
continued. "It is through the companionship I have had these weeks with
you, and your friendship, that I have been able to crystallize ideas
which before were so uncontrolled that they made me restless and
discontented. What I heard you say to Mr. Hamlen, what I have seen in
your every-day philosophy has taught me to concentrate my efforts in one
grand struggle with myself."
"If you keep it there," Huntington answered, "I shall be content; it
would be no kindness to wish it otherwise. But one of these days, little
friend, some man will come along with a nature equal to your own, and in
the division of the struggle you will find the happiness multiplied.
That will be your chance to contribute your share to the real life which
you will jointly live."
"You have remembered what I said that first time we walked home from Mr.
Hamlen's!"
"I shall always remember it. From it I first learned the depth and
beauty of your womanhood."
"Please, Mr. Huntington--" she begged deprecatingly; but her companion
saw no reason to recall the words.
On the second morning the passengers came up on deck in anticipation of
landing in the afternoon. Even Edith Stevens had passed through the
ordeal without the fatal results she had predicted. Cosden seized the
first opportunity for a final word of reconciliation.
"Don't give me up," he urged. "I've learned a lot of things down here,
and I appreciate what you have done for me more than I have shown. I'm
going to do a bit of sandpapering when I get home, and I want you to let
me run in to see you once in a while in New York, just to report
progress."
And Edith, either because after her experiences she felt too weak to
combat him, or because she thought he needed encouragement, ingloriously
capitulated.
The final good-byes were said on the dock, after the customs officials
had completed their inspection.
"Of course we'll see you in New York now and then," Mrs. Thatcher said
to the two men; "and when we open up at the shore we must plan a real
reunion."
"I shall hope to have Hamlen here by then," Huntington remarked.
"You are more optimistic than I; but in the mean time I shall be eager
to receive news of him through you."
"Drop in at the office next time you're in town, Cosden," said Thatcher;
"we'll talk over Consolidated Machinery and the Bermuda Trolleys."
"I'm thinking of getting out of business altogether, to devote myself to
art," was Cosden's enigmatical reply; but the expression on Edith
Stevens' face showed that at least she understood.
* * * * *