“Well, the stop at Queenstown is one of the experiences. May I send the
steward to rap at your door when the engine stops?”
“Oh, I shall stay up in the saloon until that time?”
“It may be a little late. It may be as late as one or two o’clock in
the morning. We can’t tell. I should think the best thing for you to do
would be to take a rest until the time comes. I think, Miss Earle, you
need it.”
It was a little after twelve o’clock when the engine stopped. The
saloon was dimly lighted, and porters were hurrying to and fro, getting
up the baggage which belonged to those who were going to get off at
Queenstown. The night was very still, and rather cold. The lights of
Queenstown could be seen here and there along the semi-circular range
of hills on which the town stood. Passengers who were to land stood
around the deck well muffled up, and others who had come to bid them
good-bye were talking sleepily with them. Morris was about to send the
steward to Miss Earle’s room, when that young lady herself appeared.
There was something spirit-like about her, wrapped in her long cloak,
as she walked through the half-darkness to meet George Morris.
“I was just going to send for you,” he said.
“I did not sleep any,” was the answer, “and the moment the engine
stopped I knew we were there. Shall we go on deck?”
“Yes,” he said, “but come away from the crowd,” and with that he led
her towards the stern of the boat. For a moment Miss Earle seemed to
hold back, but finally she walked along by his side firmly to where
they had stood the night before. With seeming intention Morris tried to
take his place beside her, but Miss Earle, quietly folding her cloak
around her, stood on the opposite side of the flagpole, and, as if
there should be no forgetfulness on his part, she reached up her hand
and laid it against the staff.
“She evidently meant what she said,” thought Morris to himself, with a
sigh, as he watched the low, dim outlines of the hills around
Queenstown Harbour, and the twinkling lights here and there.
“That is the tender coming now,” he said, pointing to the red and green
lights of the approaching boat. “How small it looks beside our monster
steamship.”
Miss Earle shivered.
“I pity the poor folks who have to get up at this hour of the night and
go ashore. I should a great deal rather go back to my state-room.”
“Well, there is one passenger I am not sorry for,” said Morris, “and
that is the young woman who has, I am afraid, been saying something to
you which has made you deal more harshly with me than perhaps you might
otherwise have done. I wish you would tell me what she said?”
“She has said nothing,” murmured Miss Earle, with a sigh, “but what you
yourself have confirmed. I do not pay much attention to what she says.”
“Well, you don’t pay much attention to what I say either,” he replied.
“However, as I say, there is one person I am not sorry for; I even wish
it were raining. I am very revengeful, you see.”
“I do not know that I am very sorry for her myself,” replied Miss
Earle, frankly; “but I am sorry for her poor old father, who hasn’t
appeared in the saloon a single day except the first. He has been sick
the entire voyage.”
“Her father?” cried Morris, with a rising inflection in his voice.
“Certainly.”
“Why, bless my soul! Her father has been dead for ages and ages.”
“Then who is the old man she is with?”
“Old man! It would do me good to have her hear you call him the old
man. Why, that is her husband.”
“Her husband!” echoed Miss Earle, with wide open eyes, “I thought he
was her father.”
“Oh, not at all. It is true, as you know, that I was engaged to the
young lady, and I presume if I had become a partner in our firm sooner
we would have been married. But that was a longer time coming than
suited my young lady’s convenience, and so she threw me over with as
little ceremony as you would toss a penny to a beggar, and she married
this old man for his wealth, I presume. I don’t see exactly why she
should take a fancy to him otherwise. I felt very cut up about it, of
course, and I thought if I took this voyage I would at least be rid for
a while of the thought of her. They are now on their wedding trip. That
is the reason your steamer chair was broken, Miss Earle. Here I came on
board an ocean steamer to get rid of the sight or thought of a certain
woman, and to find that I was penned up with that woman, even if her
aged husband was with her, for eight or nine days, was too much for me.
So I raced up the deck and tried to get ashore. I didn’t succeed in
that, but I _did_ succeed in breaking your chair.”
Miss Earle was evidently very much astonished at this revelation, but
she said nothing. After waiting in vain for her to speak, Morris gazed
off at the dim shore. When he looked around he noticed that Miss Earle
was standing on his side of the flagstaff. There was no longer a
barrier between them.