The new house had been found; a sunny, airy, sufficiently spacious
house, and the bride-elect having graciously expressed her approval, an
army of workmen were busy with the decorations. Grizel had come to pay
a flying visit to The Glen to superintend their efforts, explaining that
though she possessed sufficient strength of character to bear with
equanimity such trial as Providence might please to send, to live with a
wrong shade of paint passed the limits of her endurance.
"If it were even the tiniest degree wrong, I'd nag at Martin till his
life was a burden," she announced, smiling the while the slow,
imperturbable smile which gave so emphatic a contradiction to her words.
"But it wouldn't be my fault!" protested Martin, trying to show
sufficient distress at the threat to satisfy Grizel's sense of dignity,
but his thanks for the effort were a grimace, and an emphatic: "It will
_always_ be your fault!" which silenced him once for all.
Grizel indeed was in her most irresponsible mood, scandalising Katrine
by refusing to be serious even on that most solemn of subjects, the
ordering of Martin's food.
"I couldn't possibly think of food beforehand. It's disgusting! If I
knew what was coming to table, I couldn't eat a bite! The cook must do
it. What are cooks for?"
"_Plain_ cooks at under thirty pounds a year don't consider menus within
their province. They stare into space, and twirl their fingers while
_you_ plan. And even then they need directing."
Grizel sighed.
"But I don't _like_ plain cooks! I'll have a fancy one. Forty
pounds,--fifty--whatever she asks, and a kitchen maid to do the work."
"Then," prophesied Katrine gloomily, "Martin will be ruined. She'll fry
up all his royalties."
"I'll tell her she's not to. And besides," Grizel's voice swelled with
importance; she had caught the sneer on Katrine's lips at those first
words, and now she had a really sensible addenda. "_I'll bribe her_!
In reverse ratio. The smaller the bills, the bigger the bribe."
"Then," pursued Katrine relentlessly, "she'll give you bad qualities.
Salt butter; dripping instead of lard; cheap jams; rank tea!"
"Oh, my gracious!" Grizel grimaced again, more violently than before,
but the next moment she smiled triumphant. "I'll buy a vidder! A
gentle, domesticated little vidder who's redooced, and seeks a home.
She shall have two rooms, and kind treatment, and be paid by results.
Good food, small bills,--big salary. Small food, big bills,--out she
goes! Don't tell me I can't! There are _thousands_ of vidders. It
will be a pious deed."
"And what," queried Katrine the practical, "will you do?"
"Interfere, of course! What d'you expect?" Grizel turned her head
toward her _fiance_, who had been a delighted listener to the
discussion. "_And_ make love to Martin. I shan't have time for
anything else."
Katrine left the room, head in air, whereupon Martin made haste to take
his bride in his arms.
"Happy?" she asked softly, tilting her head so as to look into his face.
"Content?"
"Ah, Grizel, not quite... When I have you always... when you are my
wife!"
"No qualms at all--no doubt? Because there's still time... Sure you
realise exactly what you are getting? An expensive wife, impracticable
and lazy. And I'm twenty-eight. I shan't change. And not a bit
clever, except in one way!"
"What way, Grizel?"
"You know--"
"I want to be told!"
The golden eyes grew dark, the pale face glowed. Ah! Grizel's lover
needed no telling. Not one woman in a thousand could love like this
soft, sweet thing, whose outer appearance was so calm and still. She
who had contrived to love with tenderness a cantankerous old woman,
lavished a very flood of devotion on the man of her choice. His starved
nature absorbed it like a thirsty plant, but his delight in her was
still fearful, incredulous; the sudden transformation of his life had
the perilous radiance of a dream.
The engagement had been a veritable nine days' wonder. English
newspapers had published more or less accurate life histories of the
interesting couple; American journals had excelled themselves in
imaginative details. Blurred caricature portraits of the prospective
bride and bridegroom had appeared side by side, to the amusement of the
one, and the helpless fury of the other. The outer world labelled
Grizel, fool, and Martin, knave; envied the unsuspecting distant
relations, to whom would come the news of a great inheritance; and then
promptly, mercifully, forgot. Friends also ceased in due time to
forward notes of ostensible congratulation, behind which the real amaze
was plainly stamped; only one effect was of any lasting nature, and
regarding this Martin felt an odd mixture of chagrin and elation. His
agent reported a large increase in the sale of his books, and publishers
bid against each other for the privilege of publishing his new novel.
The artist in him resented so spurious a success; the lover rejoiced in
the prospect of increased prosperity which would make it possible to
provide more luxuries for his bride.
Grizel was whole-hearted in her choice of love rather than riches, but
when one has been accustomed to think in thousands, it is difficult to
grasp the importance of fractional amounts. She thought it absurd to
weigh the matter of an extra hundred a year in so important a matter as
the rent of the house in which one would have to live; she took for
granted the existence of a carriage, as simply as that of a table, and
had not dimly imagined the possibility of existence without a maid.
Martin did not delude himself that the financial future was free from
difficulty, but as for years past he had been living well below his
income, he was prepared to meet the exigencies of a period of
adjustment. Meantime Grizel's suggestion of the "vidder" seemed an
admirable solution, and he told himself cheerfully that with such a
check on household expenses, things could not go far wrong. In a few
years' time Grizel would have adapted herself to the new conditions and
be able to take over the reins; in the meantime he was well content that
she should devote herself to a more attractive role!
But one shadow had clouded the sun of Martin's content, and within the
last weeks that also had been removed, for after having obstinately
refused all overtures from himself and her friends, after proclaiming by
day or by night that she must go out into the world and fight her own
battles, Katrine had shown a sudden and mysterious _volte-face_. One
Thursday morning she had retired upstairs to digest her Indian mail, and
half an hour later, knocking at his study door, had announced her
intention of cabling an immediate acceptance of the Middletons'
invitation! She was trembling as she spoke, and her eyes were moist,
but Martin did not need to be told that it was joy and not sorrow which
caused her emotion. A woman would have pondered the why and wherefore
of the sudden change; Martin merely told himself with a sigh of relief
that she had "come to her senses," embraced her affectionately, and
proffered money for the cable. Later on he came to the conclusion that
Katrine must all along have intended to accept, and had been merely
indulging in a little feminine fuss, since it appeared all cut and dried
that she was to be looked after _en voyage_ by a member of Middleton's
regiment, now invalided in Egypt, Well! everything was turning out in
the most delightful fashion. In a hill station, which was a health
resort even in the hottest months, the question of climate was
practically non-existent. After the marriage Katrine would stay behind
superintending final arrangements in the new home, then travel overland
to Marseilles, where he and Grizel would meet her and give her a good
send-off. A visit of a year was mentioned, but when a girl so handsome
and striking went out to India, one could never tell... "Perhaps she'll
marry this Bedford," soliloquised Martin happily, Jim or Bedford, what
did it matter, so long as he was a good, straight fellow, and made the
girl happy!
Part 2--Chapter XIX.
Katrine came slowly up the companion-way, and looked around the deck in
search of her labelled chair. It was ten o'clock in the morning, and
the sun was blazing out of a cloudless sky. Yesterday in Marseilles it
had been grey and chill. The only cheerful thing had been Grizel's
face, fresh, pink-cheeked, unashamedly aglow. The secret of her
happiness was patent to the most casual eye. Tired men and work-worn
women looked at her as she passed, and glowed in sympathy, and from her
their glance passed on to the tall man with the deep-set eyes, who
walked by her side. Martin's happiness was as great as his wife's, but
man-like he was at pains to conceal it. The consciousness of being
observed was enough to extinguish his smiles, and Katrine was amusedly
conscious that he was making an effort to appear depressed at the
prospect of her own departure. The newly-married pair had accompanied
her on board the steamer, armed with flowers, with fruit, with scent and
bonbons, with cushions and medicines, until the small cabin had been
blocked to overflowing, and the passengers who had braved the rigours of
the Bay, debated among themselves as to the identity of the handsome
girl who had such a luxurious send-off.
Standing on the deck amid the roar and bustle of approaching departure,
the three had spoken their farewell words.
"I won't say good-bye," Grizel declared. "_En avant_! Katrine!
There's a good time coming!"
But the tears stood in Katrine's eyes. She was leaving the known, the
safe, and the sure, and sailing forth into the unknown. Fear seized
her, and with it regret.
"If--if I come home soon... You won't be cross if I turn up like a bad
penny? You will take me in, until I find some work?"
"My dear girl, you know it! If you are not happy; if you don't want to
go, come back with us _now_! Never mind the clothes... We'll arrange
all that. You shan't go one step against your will..."
Grizel laid her hand on her husband's arm. Her cool, calm voice was
like a tonic, bracing the hearers into composure.
"She is going of her _own_ will, and if _You_ would take her back with
you now, _I won't_, so you can choose between us! We're ready for you,
Katrine dear, when you've tried it, and grown tired, but not before.
I'm just afraid we'll have too long to wait! ... Now smile this minute!
Would you leave me stranded on a foreign shore with a lugubrious
spouse!"
Then Katrine laughed, and they kissed and embraced, and Grizel slipping
her hand through her husband's arm, drew him towards the gangway.
"Belovedest!" she whispered softly. "_I'm here_!" and Katrine looking
down from her towering perch watched the lift of the charming face,
caught the swift, mutual glance, and realised that no outside anxiety
could mar the perfection of that love. She sighed, but the predominant
sensation was relief, not pain. A chapter of her life was turned. She
thanked God that it closed in sunshine!
And now it was the morning of her first day at sea. Tired after her
long overland journey, she had retired to bed while her
fellow-passengers were at dinner, and had slept so soundly in her narrow
bunk that on waking there had been a moment's blank bewilderment before
she could realise her position. A stewardess stood before her bearing
the early cup of tea; on the berth opposite a gaunt, grey-haired woman
was sitting, cup in hand, staring at her with curious eyes.
"Mornin'!" she said tersely. "First introduction. You were asleep when
I turned in last night. Glad you don't snore!"
"Goodness! I never thought of that. How awful!" exclaimed Katrine,
laughing in her turn. She sipped at her cup, and grimaced eloquently.
"Ugh. What is it? Tea or coffee?"
"Mixed," replied the other gravely. "To suit all tastes."
She drank again with apparent enjoyment. "Always drink it myself out of
principle. Charge you too much to leave out a meal... First trip?"
"First time in my life I ever slept in a berth. I'd no idea they were
so comfortable."
The grey-haired lady fumbled beneath her pillow, placed a pair of
spectacles on her nose, and stared across with frank curiosity.
"Bride?"
"I beg your pardon!"
"Unnecessary, thank you. It's my tenth voyage. Met shoals of brides.
You look the type."
Katrine ostentatiously displayed her left hand.
"I hope that's a compliment. As a matter of fact, I am going out to
join some friends in North Bengal."
"Missionaries?"
Katrine jumped till the cup rattled in a threatening manner.
"_No_! Cer-tainly not."
"Humph!" said the grey-haired woman, and scraped the sugar from her cup.
"I'm sorry for _any_ girl," she announced tentatively between the
spoonfuls, "who goes out to one of those lonely plantations... No fun.
No chances. Fifty times worse than at home."
"Is that so? Really? I'm sorry!" Katrine shook her head, and
endeavoured to look perturbed.
The good sleep, the novelty of the surroundings, the glimpse of blue
through the port-hole, combined to produce an exhilarating effect. She
felt gay and mischievous, too light-hearted to resent her companion's
curiosity, but none the less determined not to gratify it. She ate
bread and butter, and sipped at the compound liquor in silence, the
while the spectacled eyes continued their scrutiny.
"Odd thing--the Indian climate," continued the stranger in ruminating
fashion. "Changes the constitootion. Never know _which_ way you'll go,
but it's bound to be one. _You'll_ grow fat!"
That roused Katrine. Her head twisted round, indignant colour stained
her cheeks.
"I _shan't_! I shouldn't dream of such a thing... Far more likely--"
"Excuse me--no! I've had experience. Some dwindle to skeletons, but
not your build. Niece of mine sailed with me two years ago.
Twenty-two-inch waist. Put on a stone in three months. All her bodices
altered. Two stones more since then, and a double chin. Looks like her
own mother. But of course if you take much exercise... Some of the
civil appointments are quite good. If you keep horses, and ride each
morning--"
"Just so," assented Katrine. "Just so." She was discomposed by the
prospect of obesity, the more so as Dorothea's excessive thinness would
seem to confirm the assertion that the climate was extreme in its
effects. A moment passed in the earnest consideration of the
disadvantages of fat _versus_ lean, then the grey-haired one plunged
boldly into autobiography:
"My husband was a judge. Mannering. Bombay. Thousand a year pension,
but not a penny to leave behind. No use any one making up to _me_! Got
a boy in the Indian Cavalry. Going out now to pay him a call. Nice
boy. Was, at least, when I saw him last. May have changed, of course."
Katrine's looks became suddenly infused with interest.
"Then our destinations are not far apart. Do you know--have you any
friends in the--Regiment?"
"Not--one--soul!" said the stranger emphatically, and in a manner which
seemed to imply that nothing would induce her to consent to such an
entanglement. She hunched up the pillows behind her back, and continued
forcibly. "Detest the military. Always did. Quite against my wishes
that the boy went in; but there I am--silly fool! proud as any one of
'em, when I see him dressed up... Stinting myself for his gold lace!
Well, well, we're all fools at heart, my dear, every man jack of us, and
women too... When are you going to take your bath?"
The catechism was over for the moment. Katrine staggered out of bed,
robed herself in a dainty blue dressing-gown and smoothed her dark
locks, uneasily conscious that not a ribbon, a lace, or a French knot
itself escaped the scrutiny of the watching eyes. When she returned,
fresh and rosy, her companion departed in her turn, and returned just as
Katrine was finishing her hair in time to announce briskly:
"Warm sunny day! Seen three girls in white frocks. Sport one yourself,
and cut 'em out! Great thing to make a good impression!"
"I don't care,"--began Katrine haughtily, then the spirit of the hour
choked the words in her throat. "Yes, after all, I _do_!" she laughed,
and kneeling before her cabin trunk lifted a fresh white frock from the
tray. "I'll put on this, and do credit to our cabin!"
"Cheers!" cried the stranger, and with a pleasing frankness extracted
her false teeth.
Katrine mounted the steps to the deck. There was still half an hour to
spare before breakfast, but she wished it had been twice as long, as she
paced slowly down the shining deck, and tasted for the first time the
deep salt brine of the breeze. Only fifteen hours before she had
shivered in rain and chill; now the sun was shining out of a cloudless
sky, and the breeze was warm and sweet. The exhilaration of it all!
The great vessel in its shining order, the air, the spray, the lap of
the great green flood, the kaleidoscopic procession of passengers,
strolling like herself, bareheaded, white-robed, revelling in the first
taste of heat after the Northern cold!
Katrine was loath to tear herself away from the fascinating scene, but
the duty of interviewing the steward lay before her. She descended,
armed with a golden key, proffered her request, and met with a gracious
consent.
Nothing could be easier. A party of three were landing at Port Said;
Miss Beverley could be given a place at the same table, and Captain
Bedford could also be accommodated on arrival.
So far so good! Katrine ate her breakfast with an enjoyment heightened
by her fast of the night before, came to the conclusion that she should
not grieve over the departure of the Port Said trio, and armed with a
book and a sunshade, mounted once more to the deck.
The first business was to find her chair, and a difficult search it
promised to be. She was wandering aimlessly to and fro reading the
names attached to the backs of the serried rows, when a voice spoke in
her ear:
"Can I help?" it asked. "You are looking for a chair, I think. If you
give me the name, I'd be delighted to find it for you."
The speaker was a tall, strikingly handsome man of some twenty-four or
five years. Katrine had noticed him at an adjacent table during the
lengthy breakfast; had also been conscious that he had noticed herself.
She expressed her thanks, and in an incredibly short time the chair was
produced, and placed in a comfortable position.
"May I bring mine alongside?" enquired the stranger, and Katrine bowed
assent. She had anticipated the request, and was gratified thereby. On
shipboard one need not trouble about conventional introductions, and it
would be agreeable to have a companion who knew the ropes, and who could
enliven the morning with agreeable tit-bits of information concerning
her fellow-travellers.
She smiled therefore at the handsome fellow in her most friendly manner;
whereupon he smiled back, and glibly burst into autobiography:
"Austin Murray is my name, England is my nation, Engineering is my game,
Bombay my destination."
"Thanks very much," returned Katrine gravely. "Katherine Beverley is my
name--"
"Any relation to the author chap who robbed that poor girl of her cash?"
"I am!"
The terse affirmative had a disturbing effect on Mr Murray's composure.
He had evidently not expected it, and had the grace to look confused.
"I say, you know, I didn't know... 'Pologise! Didn't really mean it
like that!" He pondered, and pondering was struck with a brilliant
inspiration. "I _say_! The couple who came on board with you
yesterday! You don't mean to say--"
"I didn't mean to say," corrected Katrine calmly, "but yes! you have
guessed correctly. That was my brother and his wife!"
"_Brother_!" Mr Murray whistled softly, but made no attempt to
apologise a second time. Katrine diagnosed him as being little in the
habit of eating humble pie.
"I _say_," he exclaimed once more, "if a girl like that gave up all that
for _me_, I should be ruined for life! Bowled over! Eaten up with
conceit. She's a corker! _Isn't_ she a corker, now?"
"She is generally considered to be excessively--corking!" agreed Katrine
demurely, and then suddenly she laughed; a gay, light-hearted laugh.
What a change it was! To sit on this wide shining deck among a crowd of
strangers, to exchange frivolities with one of the handsomest of men,
also a stranger, to feel the sun beat on her neck, on her outstretched
feet, to have nothing to do, and nothing to care for, but her own ease
and enjoyment! She laughed, leaning her head against the back of her
chair; the sun flecked her hair with gold, the clear healthy tints of
her skin seemed to gain in colour in the dancing light. Mr Murray
hitched his chair a degree nearer, and spoke in a lower voice:
"I say... You don't know any one on board?"
"Not yet. No."
"How would it be if--what would you say to fixing up a steamship
flirtation?"
Katrine straightened herself with a jerk.
"I _beg_ your pardon! I don't quite understand--"
"Oh, it's simple enough. Always do it myself on a long voyage. Much
more satisfactory and amusin' than just trustin' to luck... Spot some
one you like, and agree to sit together on deck, be partners at sports,
moon about,--_under_ the moon!--confide your woes, comfort and soothe,
sentimentalise a bit--especially towards the end--"
Katrine threw him a glance, beneath lids haughtily dropped.
"Tha-anks. It sounds very interesting. And then--?"
"Oh, then?" Mr Murray twisted his moustache. "Then--you're there, you
know, and er--you say good-bye!"
"Very interesting!" commented Katrine once more, "but I'm afraid I can't
play. The idea doesn't thrill me, and besides I have a--friend coming
on board at Port Said, who will naturally expect some attention."
"Rotten luck!" sighed Mr Murray, and for sixty seconds on end looked
seriously downcast. "But of course," he added thoughtfully, "if it were
only to Port Said--"
"Just so. It would be a pity to break the continuity of your scheme.
You have had quite a long voyage already. How is it that you have not
already--" Katrine stopped short, as an expression of discomfiture
flitted over the handsome face, and altered the character of her
enquiry. "May I ask how _many_ others you have asked before me?"
"Not--many!" stammered Mr Murray ingenuously. His gaze wandered
uneasily round the deck, and Katrine's following his, met a pair of
mischievous brown eyes set in a plump girlish face. The eyes were fixed
upon herself with an expression of such interest and curiosity as told
its own tale, and Katrine hastily lowered her white umbrella.
Simultaneously the plump girl lowered her own, but it shook! Austin
Murray, looking from one wobbling frame to the other, chewed his
moustache in disgust.
"Perhaps," he explained stiffly, "I am too ambitious. One needs must
love the highest... There are, of course, a dozen girls who would be
only too glad--"
"Then," said Katrine hastily, "pray lose no time in securing one of the
number. If you don't, they may be snapped up. Don't let me detain--"
Mr Murray leaped from his seat, bowed deeply, and walked rapidly away.
To the end of the voyage he kept sedulously out of Katrine's way.
Katrine lay contentedly in her chair luxuriating in the sun and the
breeze, and lazily studying the passers-by. As usual under the
circumstances she dubbed the passengers dull and uninteresting. Further
acquaintance might reveal hidden fascinations, but for the present she
failed to discover any of the types for which she looked. The
fascinating grass widow playing havoc with other hearts, while keeping
her own serenely untouched; the beauteous maids sailing forth to conquer
new worlds, the purple-faced and choleric colonels; the flock of
interesting, unattached males!--where had they all disappeared? She saw
before her a company for the most part staid and middle-aged, bearing
the chastened air of the outward bound; the sprinkling of youngsters
were of very ordinary attractions, the flock of children, fascinating
for an hour, but becoming painfully in evidence as the day wore on.
Only one figure arrested her attention, and that from a reason more
painful than pleasant. He was a man approaching middle-age, with a
finely-hewn face, on which consumption had deeply hewn its mark. He
paced the deck wrapped in an old Inverness cape, and at intervals leaned
coughing over the rail. So far as Katrine's observation went, he spoke
to nobody, and nobody spoke to him. Her heart softened at his air of
suffering, and she determined that if fate threw him in her way, she
would open an acquaintance.
After tea the grey-haired Mrs Mannering joined her room-mate for a
promenade round the deck, and treated her to staccato items of
information.
"Sticky lot! Always are on these boats. Thank goodness there are very
few soldiers on board. When there are, it's worse than ever. Cavalry
cuts Infantry, Infantry snubs civilians. Civil servants bar trade. So
you go on! Don't trouble _me_. I know too much about 'em!" She gave a
quick, keen glance. "Like scandal?"
"Thank you, no! I hate it."
"Quite right, too. At your age. I don't mind telling you that it's the
breath of my nostrils. No pretence about me. What I think I _say_!
Give me a good, spicy divorce..."
Katrine quickened her pace, eyelids drooped, corners of lips turned
down. Never in all her twenty-six years had she listened to such a
sentiment. Horror seized her at the idea of being shut up in close
quarters with a woman of degraded tastes. Would it be possible to
change cabins?
"Bless you, my lamb. _I_ won't sully your little mind!"
The kind, motherly voice spoke in such apt response to the inner
thought, that Katrine jumped in her skin. She turned, rosy and shy,
half-angry, half-ashamed, and saw a wrinkled hand held out towards her.
"There! That's agreed--I like you. Right sort of girl. Don't you
worry! You might do a lot worse than have old Nance Mannering as a
companion. I've lived east of Suez too long not to be able to adapt
myself to my company. You'll get no contamination from me, and what's
more, I'll protect you from getting it elsewhere. You have a word with
me, my dear, before you take up with any of these boys, and I'll put you
on your guard. Poor lot, most of them; drinking and gambling..."
"I don't think I shall `take up' with any one, thank you. A
fellow-officer of my host in India is to join the ship at Port Said, and
will look after me for the rest of the voyage. He is not a very young
man, but I'm told he is nice. I expect to enjoy his society. There's
only one man I've seen on board who interests me at all. The one with
the cape, who looks so ill."
"Vernon Keith. Artist. Rather a big wig in his way, or promised to be,
a year or two since. Consumption of course,--_and_ his own folly!
Going this voyage for health, if it please you! The mad folly of
doctors to allow a man in that condition to start out on such a
crack-brained expedition, mewed up among hundreds of people, scattering
poison wherever he goes! Sea air is all very well, but what about the
smoke-room, eh? What about the bars? Temptation waiting on every hand,
and no one to say him nay. The passengers steer clear of him, and no
wonder. By ten o'clock at night--"
"Perhaps," said Katrine quickly, "if people did _not_ steer clear,
things might be different. _I_ shan't, if I get the chance. He is ill
and weak, and I'm sure he is sad. He looked _miserable_ this morning,
pacing up and down alone. Isn't it rather Pharisaical to stand aside
because a man is ill, and--weak?"
The spectacled eyes twinkled humorously.
"Well, well, he'll be pleased enough, no doubt, but don't be too kind,
and raise expectations which can't be fulfilled! Port Said's ahead--and
the nice man!"
"And--Jim!" added Katrine softly to herself. When the dusk fell, she
stood for an hour leaning over the rail, watching the phosphorescent
glow on the darkened waves, sending out wistful, timorous thoughts
toward that meeting which was growing momentarily nearer. "Jim!"