HOMEWARD BOUND
Two days after; _La Mascotte_ steamed away from Madeira. The list of the
ship's passengers had been added to. Two new persons were aboard,
returning to England.
Masters and Dick were seated on deck in their usual places. The one
writing, the other sketching; suddenly a voice behind them said:
"If it were needed, here is more evidence of the smallness of the
world."
The voice had that settled Society drawl about it. Particularly
unwelcome hearing away from its proper setting: the surroundings in
which it is usually to be heard. In its own sphere it is bad enough; is
positively jarring in the unconventional atmosphere of aboard-ship life.
At any rate, Dick found it so, if judgment might be framed from his
expression. He looked the reverse of pleased, but subdued the feeling as
he turned round and spoke:
"Hullo! I didn't see you come aboard. How do you do, old fellow? How do
you do, Miss Chantrelle?... Let me introduce Mr. Masters to you." He
knew his friend's real name now, and was rather proud of it. "Mr.
William Masters.... Yes, the novelist--Miss Chantrelle... Her brother,
Percy Chantrelle."
They formed, more or less, a quartette on the voyage home. Dick saw he
was in for it and could not help himself--easy-going Dick! Occasionally
they paired off: Miss Chantrelle and Dick and the two men.
Masters prided himself on possession of an ability to read faces; he had
no liking for the two new ones which had come aboard at Madeira. Miss
Chantrelle's more especially repelled him. Not because he preferred her
brother; rather that he set up a higher standard as necessary for women
than men.
Human nature was a power Masters ever recognized. He could forgive a man
being hard, calculating and selfish, but not a woman; in Miss
Chantrelle's face he read all those attributes. Still, they were Dick's
friends, more or less; so, in a measure, they became his.
Amy Chantrelle was equally quick in facial perusal; speedily read
distrust in Masters'. She had not lived in the world without acquiring
its knowledge; was wise enough to appreciate the power in others she
possessed herself. She was a distinctly clever, shrewd, woman of the
world.
Nothing would have arisen from all this, but for the rattling of Master
Dick's tongue. He told of Prince Charlie's matrimonial intent: the
possibility of friend merging into brother-in-law. At heart he was so
proud of this possibility that he would have liked to proclaim it from
the house-tops--masthead would perhaps have been a more suitable word.
Miss Chantrelle listened with interest; scarcely sympathetic interest,
but the distinction was not obvious. It was unobserved by Dick, and he
felt himself encouraged to expound the subject he had so much at heart.
Was led on to so doing by skilfully-put questions such as only a woman
would know how to frame.
Amy Chantrelle was greatly displeased; all her sympathy was assumed. The
Chantrelles were poor. Both brother and sister were well-favoured; each
looked to marriage as a little boat in which the storm of life might be
weathered.
They inclined to the belief that Percy was a favourite with Mrs.
Seton-Carr. Now that she was a widow there was hope, a very strong hope
too, in their hearts that she might be induced to change her name to
that of Chantrelle.
As a matter of fact, they were coming to England for the very purpose of
trying to induce her to do so; the Seton-Carr bank balance serving as
the lodestone.
They had imagined her left fairly well-to-do, but when they saw in the
newspapers the amount her husband's estate was sworn under, their
breaths were taken away! They promptly packed and set out for England,
home and beauty--not forgetting the aforesaid credit balance.
They were greatly disturbed by what they heard on the boat: when Dick
told of the position Masters was hoping to fill. The disturbance rapidly
shaped into indignation: they looked on it as an endeavour to take the
bread from out their mouths. The pleasant voyage they had looked forward
to was not without its unpleasant moments.
"Never mind, Percy." The sister speaking to her brother one day. "Given
a clear field, you will go in and win yet."
"The clearness of the field is----"
"Leave that to me; I'll make it my business to see that you have a clear
field."
The brother shook his head as he responded gloomily:
"Easier said than done, I fancy, Sis. I'm not overbrimming with hope."
"There is no need for despondency. We will arrange to go to Wivernsea
right off. That young fool Dick is finger-twistable: I can make him do
anything."
The brother needed more than mere words to convince him; observed
sneeringly:
"Except propose marriage to you!"
An ugly light came into her eyes. His shaft had gone in up to the
feather; she spoke bitterly:
"Yes. He is not of the impressionable kind. I don't suppose any woman
will ever get him."
"Odds on that, Amy, if you fail to bring him up to the scratch."
"But I can make him arrange for us to visit there. His sister thinks
everything of him.... Masters won't go there."
"Don't be so sure of that."
"I am. He is one of those thin-skinned, sensitive sort of beasts. There
has been some misunderstanding--probably of his own creation--which he
counts on being able to wipe away. But he has never stayed there; we
have. He goes year after year to rooms in the place; he'll put up at the
same rooms again."
"Think so?"
"Am certain of it. I can read the man as easily--well, as easily as his
books are read."
"Yes, he's read. A popular writer like that must be earning pots of
money in royalties. Might be worth setting your cap at, Amy."
He looked at his sister critically. She was a handsome girl. The face a
trifle hard, perhaps, but not every man goes in for melting beauty; some
look for character--so thought her brother.
Bitter laughter shaped on her lips at her brother's suggestion; a woman
ever takes defeat badly; she replied:
"I am not his sort; I am not the kind of woman he writes about! He can
dissect me, probably has done so, as easily as you can carve a pigeon.
Besides, he's dead gone on Mabel."
"Curse him!"
"By all means. But whatever you do, don't fear him. Outwardly he is as
cold as ice; inside there is a raging volcano. Women don't hanker after
that kind of love, if there's anything more outwardly tempestuous: like
yourself. They are apt to judge of the surface."
"Thanks!"
"Oh! It's true; we don't want to mince words. That's where the average
woman makes a fool of herself; where your chance comes in. Masters is
worth fifty of you, but there are no scales to balance or register
values of that kind."
"Thanks again!"
"Oh, we know it, you and I. We can speak to each other without putting
foot on the soft pedal. He has a nature which would make him stick to a
woman till, literally, death did them part. Yours is of the type which
would prompt thoughts of a separation the moment the woman's bank
balance ran out."
"And you?"
He could not resist the sneer; she had fingered a sore place. But he did
not hurt her this time; she owned up at once:
"Cast in the same mould! I did not mean blame to you. My own glass-house
prevents stone-throwing. I was merely stating facts; I would not have
them otherwise. Men like Masters are profitless in this world. When
virtue is its own reward, the reward is usually too small to be seen
with the naked eye. I have a distinct preference for qualifications
which are otherwise."
Percy smiled. Was full of admiration points for his sister. She was the
stronger of the two: he ever recognized that; she continued bitterly:
"Virtue is all very well for woman: it may serve her purpose. For a man
it is a useless luxury."
His own non-possession of it made him smile again; she went on:
"As you don't seem inclined to take the initiative I shall do so myself.
Before we reach Wivernsea, Mabel will have received a letter from me. I
am going to write it ready to post at the first port we touch. It will
go by the overland route."
It did.