A WEDDING RING.
For the next week I was a very sick man. I remember almost nothing of
what happened, except that I was in bed and that Miss May was nursing me
with all the care a mother gives an infant. Yes, I remember another
thing--that Mr. Wesson came several times to my bedside and conversed in
low tones with my companion and with a physician whom somebody had
summoned. I was too weak to think much about it, or I should certainly
have objected to his presence, but I knew in a dim way that he was
there.
Afterwards I began slowly to regain my memory and my strength. My first
attempts to engage in conversation were discouraged. Mr. Pomeroy, the
proprietor of the house, came in and said sympathetically that if I
wanted to get on my feet soon I must be very quiet. "Eddie" Armstrong,
the manager, whom I had grown to like immensely, said the same thing. I
obeyed their injunctions for several days more; but one morning I awoke
so strong in heart that I announced my purpose of rising, though all the
doctors in Christendom--or even in Barbados--forbade it.
Miss May hesitatingly brought my bath wrap and assisted me to sit up in
bed. One movement upon my feet, however, had more effect than all her
persuasions. I must wait a little longer. She propped me up and gave me
a strengthening drink that was waiting upon a table. Then she sat by my
side and, at my request, read extracts from some newspapers that she had
obtained in the reading room below.
The news was all about a possible war with Spain, on account of the
blowing up of the warship "Maine," in Havana Harbor. I grew indignant at
the hot-heads in my country who were willing to plunge two nations in
the horrors of war without waiting to see if a catastrophe could be
honorably averted. When the reading was finished I lay passive for a
long time and then my thoughts reverted to the scene that preceded my
illness.
"I am very, very sorry!" I murmured, drawing Marjorie toward me by the
hand which she allowed to rest in mine.
"Sorry? For what?"
"My cruelty to you."
She bade me think no more of what had passed, declaring that the blame,
if any, was her own, and that, at least, I must not talk about it for
the present. Her manner soothed me more than words and I lay very still,
fondling the hand I held and occasionally murmuring grateful
expressions. They came to me gradually--all the hateful things I had
said and done; and I contrasted them, to my discredit, with the
thoughtful care she was giving me.
The love that had vanished during my anger returned ten-fold.
The doctor came and looked wise. I would be able to sit up in a day or
two, he said. Good nursing was what I most required now; as if I didn't
know that as well as he! And I had the best nurse in the world--the one
I wanted above all others. Could I only be assured I never would lose
her!
On the third day I refused to heed longer the advice not to talk. I had
too much to say that I wanted Marjorie to hear.
"If you really wish me to be quiet," I said, "you can stop me very
easily. Tell me you will be my wife when we return to New York. Only say
'yes' and I will not speak another word."
She leaned over the bed, pushing my hair back gently with her soft white
hand.
"Only that one word, Marjorie; only that one! And then we will both be
still."
"When--we return--to New York," she answered, slowly, with a pause
between the syllables, "I have--something--of great importance to--tell
you. If--after that--you persist in your question--I--I--"
"That is enough," was my joyful reply. "You will leave it to me? Dear
girl, I ask no more. God bless and keep you!"
I fell asleep early that evening and did not waken once till the sun had
risen. Then the medicine she had given me showed its efficacious power.
I was quite able to rise and even to take my breakfast at the table in
the sitting-room with her. Once started on the road to recovery each
hour showed a rapid gain. In another day I was taken for a short drive.
The next I remained dressed from morning till night, though I reclined
part of the time on a sofa.
And I could think of nothing but returning to the United States. The
sooner the better now, when the wish of my life was to be granted there.
Marjorie showed herself a woman of wonderful capacity in more ways than
one. She arranged with the Colonial Bank officials to have a draft all
ready for me to sign when I drove up one day for money, thus saving what
must have proved a weary wait. She bought new steamer chairs, the others
having been left carelessly on the Pretoria. She paid the hotel bill and
made all arrangements for our departure, having taken pains to learn
which steamer would take us away the soonest. We were to go on a Royal
Mail boat, "the Don," (happy omen!) to Jamaica, being sure of plenty of
American steamers from that point.
On the day we were to depart I was nearly as strong as ever. Bidding
farewell with some regrets to all the guests I knew, to the proprietor,
the manager, Miss Byno and the brown-eyed bicyclist, I entered the
carriage with really a light heart.
I was going again on a voyage with Marjorie; going, though the route
might be slightly circuitous, to a land where she and I were to be
indissolubly united. Is it any wonder I was happy?
The crowd of boatmen that assailed us at the water's edge nearly carried
me off my feet. Money is too scarce in Barbados to make the possible
gain of a dollar a light matter. One of the men caught me, however, by
the name of his craft, which he repeated loudly. "Here yo' is, Massa; de
Marjorie, dat's yo' boat, Massa!" I engaged him on the spot and a black
patrolman scattered the horde of disappointed applicants. Our baggage
and ourselves filled the little boat, but we knew we were safe. Off we
started for the big black steamer, near which I could discern the
American man-of-war "Cincinnati," bringing a leap of patriotic blood to
my heart.
Home? We were almost at home now, with the stars and stripes floating so
near us!
The "Don" and the "Marjorie." What could be more propitious?
"I hope you won't scold me, Don," said Marjorie, in a low voice, "but I
have taken a liberty that perhaps I should have spoken about
beforehand."
"Take any liberty you like, sweetheart," I answered. "I am yours now, to
do what you please with."
She drew off one of her gloves and advancing a hand asked me to inspect
it. After doing so for a minute I told her I saw nothing except the
dearest hand in the world; upon which I took it up and kissed it.
"Don't you notice that I am wearing another ring?" she said, flushing.
She certainly was: A gold ring at that and a plain one. It was on her
wedding finger, too.
My first thought was that she had summoned a minister and married me
during my illness. This was too good to be true and I at once dismissed
it.
"You are not yet quite well," she explained, demurely, "and I shall have
to be in your cabin frequently. I thought it best to avoid attracting
notice, and as I had that ring of my mother's--I just--put it on."
How sweet it was of her; how confiding!
"But our names on the passenger list?" I said.
"That is all arranged. We are Mr. and Mrs. Camwell."
It was bliss enough for one day. Nothing but the purest thoughts
regarding her could enter my head now. She was to be my wife!
The next morning she arranged a pleasant way to pass the time. Our cabin
was very large and roomy, and she said she could go on with my "novel"
quite as well there as on shore. She made me recline on my berth, which
had no other above it, and dictation was therefore done entirely at my
ease. It was undoubtedly better for me to keep my mind actively
employed, and the task to which I set myself was a most agreeable one.
My darling recorded the lines I gave her, with rapidity, and made very
few audible comments that day, although it was evident from the
tell-tale expression of her mobile countenance that she was keenly alive
to each situation I detailed. The lines that seemed to affect her most
were those wherein I confessed the depth, the sincerity and the purity
of the love that had sprung up in my heart.
She could not complain that I was misrepresenting her own part in these
affairs, for I thought no alteration could improve a straightforward
statement of the real facts as they appeared to me. She winced a
little--I thought more about that afterwards--when I referred to seeing
Wesson in my stateroom on the Pretoria and again when I spoke of meeting
him in close converse with Edgerly in Barbados.
The nearest she came to a full stop was when I related the reasons I had
for believing Wesson stole the book from Eggert and was more than likely
the thief who had taken the jewels, but after a second her fingers flew
over the keys as usual.
The waters through which we were passing were smooth as any millpond. I
have never seen so calm a sea, and my tranquil mind sorted with it
perfectly. There was nothing that could add to my happiness. I believed
each revolution of the steamer's screw brought me nearer the goal of my
ambition, the possession of my lovely companion as my true and lawful
bride. In the meantime I was producing what I had no doubt would give me
a successful embarkation on the sea of literary fame, a voyage I had
long aspired to take.
During the three days the "Don" occupied in going from Greytown to
Kingston we accomplished much. Marjorie gasped several times when I came
to the chapter that detailed my entrance into Wesson's room and my
success in finding the packet containing the missing diamonds. As I told
of my interview with the rascal she grew as pale as chalk, but she did
not entirely stop her writing. At last we came to the time when the
"novel" itself was begun and she brightened enough to say that we were
walking now in our own tracks. But, at the bald revelation of the things
I had said to her when I lost my temper, and demanded back the very
clothes she wore, she protested.
"You are unjust to yourself to put that literally in your story," she
said, pleadingly. "Your readers will never feel the extent of your
provocation. It makes you appear a very detestable character."
"It must go in--exactly as it happened," I answered. "I had no valid
excuse for the contemptible things I did. The public will consider it
all a piece of fiction. I think it necessary to show the extent to which
I lost my reason when I believed I had lost you. It is much safer in a
novel to abuse the 'hero' than the 'heroine.'"
Seeing that nothing would move me she went on as I dictated and when the
boat was due to arrive at Jamaica the next day we had reached the very
words you are now reading. I had apparently recovered my strength
entirely. That night I slept as soundly as if I had never known illness
or mental trouble. In the morning we went early upon deck to see the
entrance to the Harbor and had a pleasant talk with Captain Tindall, one
of those affable and handsome men that England produces in such numbers
and assigns to this duty all over the world.
Inquiry had convinced me that there was but one suitable place to stay
at in Kingston--the Myrtle Bank Hotel--and the result proved the wisdom
of my choice. While open to some slight criticism--as what hotel is
not?--it was on the whole a delightful home to us during our brief stay.
There being no more work to do at present I occupied the hours in talks,
walks and drives with Marjorie, happy as the butterflies among the roses
in the pretty park which separates the hotel from the shore.
We went one day to visit a camp of soldiers in the suburbs, on another
to the Constant Spring Hotel, situated six miles from town in a mountain
nook, to Castleton Gardens and Hope Gardens, beautiful for situation and
high culture, with lovely roads leading to each. Again, we took the
train to Spanish Town and drove to Bog Walk, as pretty a bit of scenery
as one could desire. And later we passed several days at Mandeville,
some fifty miles or so away, a village perched among the hills 2100 feet
above the sea, where the scent of coffee flowers and orange blossoms
fairly filled the delicious air and the thermometer recorded a degree of
heat more grateful than that to be found in the lowlands. I noted the
mercury at 70 when I went to bed, at 60 when I rose, and at 75 when the
sun was in the zenith. I really do not know another spot more charming
in any land, in March or April.
Besides this we visited Montpelier, Montego Bay and Port Antonio, seeing
at the latter place a steamer of the Boston Fruit Company setting sail
for the Hub with an immense cargo of bananas and oranges. The country
thereabout is one field of those fruits, combined with the stately
cocoanut palms, while a short distance away tobacco is grown that rivals
the famed product of unhappy Cuba. On the 28th we bade farewell to the
island, with genuine regret on my part at least, and took the little
"Beta" of the Halifax line for Bermuda.
Before we left Kingston a batch of letters was received, some for each
of us, and I did not attempt to annoy Marjorie this time by prying into
her correspondence. My confidence in her was now at its highest point.
She did not write any answers, nor did I, as we were so soon to reach
home. After three days in Bermuda we started for America. I saw that,
for some reason, she wanted to return, and with the hope that filled my
breast I had no wish to prolong our absence.
It was agreed that we would have to separate when we touched land, she
to go to her old lodgings and I to mine, but I stipulated that we were
to meet again within a very few days and that she was to write me when
to expect her. As I saw her enter her carriage, with her baggage
strapped behind, I held myself well in hand, though the wish to embrace
her at parting nearly overpowered me.
"You will write as soon as possible?" I said, interrogatively.
"Yes," she answered. "I will write; and then, if you still insist, I
will come to you."
If I still insisted! I did not believe as I saw her wheels disappear in
the street that anything could change the resolutions I held so dear!