STELLA CONFIDES IN HER HUSBAND.
The sky is dark with storm and cloud--
The ocean's face is cold and drear--
But deep within two loving hearts
The light of faith burns ever clear.
The steamer was now about half way across the Atlantic, and this was the
first disagreeable weather she had encountered. To-night the wind blew
heavily; the waves rolled high and few of the many passengers remained
on deck after the "dog watch" was set.
Mrs. Sinclair felt a slight sensation of that much dreaded and truly
awful malady which bears the mild, delusive name of sea-sickness, and
remained quietly in her berth, but Stella, clinging to her husband's
arm, reached a somewhat sheltered spot on deck, and there, with his arm
about her, Sir Frederic sat and looked about over the fast darkening
ocean.
Clouds, black and threatening, were rolling heavily across the sky,
while the winds howled angrily through the rigging, and the white capped
waves threw themselves against the steamer's sides as though enraged at
her stubborn resistance of their destroying wills. Truly, sky and ocean,
air and space, seemed joining powers in a mighty effort to overthrow the
universe, and were only lashed into greater fury at the defiance cast in
their very teeth by the handiwork of man. Yet the steamer advanced
steadily forward, coquetting with the gentler waves and breasting the
more determined ones with dogged persistence.
But to Stella, the confusion of the elements brought only a feeling of
greater security in her husband's love. She looked to him and trusted;
she clung to him and was safe,--for come weal or woe, they were
together, and death by whatever manner could bring no terror, so that it
found her in his arms. After a few moments of silent contemplation,
Stella raised her eyes and whispered softly, "Dearest, there is
something I would like to tell you, in fact, I should have done so
before but I was so happy I dreaded to revive old memories,--but now, I
feel that I would like to tell you, of that night--"
"No, Darling," Sir Frederic interrupted, quickly. "Do not speak of it
Stella. Try and forget all that is past, and live only in the joys of
the present and future," and he pressed her closer to his side as if the
joy of _his_ present was sufficient to eradicate all memories of
unpleasant nature.
"But I think I would feel easier if I could tell you, dear," she
pleaded. "It was all so strange, but neither you or mamma ever asked me
and some way I have never felt like mentioning it myself until to-night.
Do let me tell you, Frederic," she entreated.
"Stella, dear, if you wish to, certainly my love, only do not let your
memory dwell upon so painful a subject."
"It is about that night," Stella said softly. "I had gone to my room to
retire, after telling Maurice plainly which room I was to occupy. I
closed my door and threw open the window for a moment while I stood,
injudiciously you will say, and let the damp mists cool my face. I did
not hear my door open, neither did I hear his step, but suddenly a most
peculiar odor stifled me. I turned quickly to see from whence it came,
and there was Maurice standing by my side. The expression on his face
was horrible. I opened my lips, involuntarily, to scream, but no sound
came. Instead, my throat and lungs seemed instantly filled to
suffocating with the stifling odor. I grew dizzy and would have fallen
but he caught me in his arms. Then he wrapped my cloak about me,--put my
traveling cap on my head, and, Frederic, I walked out of the room with
his aid, through the hall to the side door and actually entered a cab,
knowing all the time exactly as well what I was doing as I know now, but
it was impossible for me to speak or think connectedly. I could not move
without his aid. So it was throughout that long and dreadful ride; I
could neither speak or move but I heard and understood every word that
he addressed to me. He evidently knew the exact nature of the drug that
he had employed for he talked to me all the way, telling me his plans,
and the awful fate that awaited me if I did not yield to his wishes.
But this I must say to his credit, that in no way did he molest me and I
was as free from the pollution of his touch when I left the carriage as
when I entered it."
Here Stella's voice died away as a specially vindictive gust swept by
their sheltered nook, and Sir Frederic, after pressing a tender kiss
upon her lips, sprang to his feet and wrapping her closer in his ample
rug, almost carried her across the deck and down to the comfortable
stateroom, then leaving her with Mrs. Sinclair, he climbed the stairs
once more, and walked back and forth across the slippery planks, trying
to calm, if possible, the tumult of indignation and sorrow, that
Stella's recital aroused within his breast.
Soon two other passengers joined him in his solitary walk, and it was
evident to him by the peculiar roll of the body, that one of the
newcomers at least, was well accustomed to pacing slippery decks and
encountering heavy seas. Sure enough, he was the old "sea dog" whose
genial, brown face had won the hearts of all at the Captain's table. He
was Commander of some ship now on dry dock, and was taking this
opportunity to try a voyage with his friend, the Captain of the
Cunarder.
To-night, he had succeeded in enticing a particularly timid young man on
deck to "try the weather and brace him up a bit," as he good-naturedly
explained it. But now that he was once more walking the deck in the
teeth of a "rattling breeze," 'his cup of pleasure overflowed and he
proceeded to terrify the young man nearly out of his wits by a thrilling
sea yarn of earlier days.
Sir Frederic, realizing that a story told on deck is common property,
linked his arm in the young man's unoccupied one and catching step as
best he could, walked on, while he listened somewhat absently to the
Captain's narrative.