In a Steamer Chair, and Other Stories Part 14

"How do you know?" answered the young man, reddening and turning a quick look at her.

"How do I know?" laughed the other. "How should I know?"

For a moment it flashed across his mind that Miss Katherine Earle had spoken of their interview of last night; but a moment later he dismissed the suspicion as unworthy.

"How do you know?" he repeated.

"Because I was told so on very good authority."

"I don't believe it."

"Ha, ha! now you are very rude. It is very rude to say to a lady that she doesn't speak the truth."

"Well, rude or not, you are not speaking the truth. n.o.body told you such a thing."

"My dear George, how impolite you are. What a perfect bear you have grown to be. Do you want to know who told me?"

"I don't care to know anything about it."

"Well, nevertheless, I shall tell you. _You_ told me."

"I did? Nonsense, I never said anything about it."

"Yes, you did. Your walk showed it. The dejected look showed it, and when I spoke to you, your actions, your tone, and your words told it to me plainer than if you had said, 'I proposed to Miss Earle last night and I was rejected.' You poor, dear innocent, if you don't brighten up you will tell it to the whole ship."

"I am sure, Blanche, that I am very much obliged to you for the interest you take in me. Very much obliged, indeed."

"Oh no, you are not; and now, don't try to be sarcastic, it really doesn't suit your manner at all. I was very anxious to know how your little flirtation had turned out. I really was. You know I have an interest in you, George, and always will have, and I wouldn't like that spiteful little black-haired minx to have got you, and I am very glad she refused you, although why she did so I cannot for the life of me imagine."

"It must be hard for you to comprehend why she refused me, now that I am a partner in the firm." Blanche looked down upon the deck, and did not answer.

"I am glad," she said finally, looking up brightly at him with her innocent blue eyes, "that you did not put off your proposal until to-night. We expect to be at Queenstown to-night some time, and we leave there and go on through by the Lakes of Killarney. So, you see, if you hadn't proposed last night I should have known nothing at all about how the matter turned out, and I should have died of curiosity and anxiety to know."

"Oh, I would have written to you," said Morris. "Leave me your address now, and I'll write and let you know how it turns out."

"Oh," she cried quickly, "then it isn't ended yet? I didn't think you were a man who would need to be refused twice or thrice."

"I should be glad to be refused by Miss Earle five hundred times."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, five hundred times, if on the five hundredth and first time she accepted."

"Is it really so serious as that?"

"It is just exactly that serious."

"Then your talk to me after all was only pretence?"

"No, only a mistake."

"What an escape I have had!"

"You have, indeed."

"Ah, here comes Miss Earle. Really, for a lady who has rejected a gentleman, she does not look as supremely happy as she might. I must go and have a talk with her."

"Look here, Blanche," cried the young man, angrily, "if you say a word to her about what we have been speaking of, I'll--"

"What will you do?" said the young lady, sweetly.

Morris stood looking at her. He didn't himself know what he would do; and Blanche, bowing to him, walked along the deck, and sat down in the steamer chair beside Miss Earle, who gave her a very scant recognition.

"Now, you needn't be so cool and dignified," said the lady. "George and I have been talking over the matter, and I told him he wasn't to feel discouraged at a first refusal, if he is resolved to have a shop-girl for his wife."

"What! Mr. Morris and you have been discussing me, have you?"

"Is there anything forbidden in that, Miss Earle? You must remember that George and I are very, very old friends, old and dear friends. Did you refuse him on my account? I know you like him."

"Like him?" said Miss Earle, with a fierce light in her eyes, as she looked at her tormentor. "Yes, I like him, and I'll tell you more than that;" she bent over and added in an intense whisper, "I love him, and if you say another word to me about him, or if you dare to discuss me with him, I shall go up to him where he stands now and accept him. I shall say to him, 'George Morris, I love you.' Now if you doubt I shall do that, just continue in your present style of conversation."

Blanche leaned back in the steamer chair and turned a trifle pale. Then she laughed, that irritating little laugh of hers, and said, "Really I did not think it had gone so far as that. I'll bid you good morning."

The moment the chair was vacated, George Morris strolled up and sat down on it.

"What has that vixen been saying to you?" he asked.

"That vixen," said Miss Earle, quietly, "has been telling me that you and she were discussing me this morning, and discussing the conversation that took place last night."

"It is a lie," said Morris.

"What is? What I say, or what she said, or what she says you said?"

"That we were discussing you, or discussing our conversation, is not true. Forgive me for using the coa.r.s.er word. This was how it was; she came up to me--"

"My dear Mr. Morris, don't say a word. I know well enough that you would not discuss the matter with anybody. I, perhaps, may go so far as to say, least of all with her. Still, Mr. Morris, you must remember this, that even if you do not like her now--"

"Like her?" cried Morris; "I hate her."

"As I was going to say, and it is very hard for me to say it, Mr.

Morris, you have a duty towards her as you--we all have our duties to perform," said Miss Earle, with a broken voice. "You must do yours, and I must do mine. It may be hard, but it is settled. I cannot talk this morning. Excuse me." And she rose and left him sitting there.

"What in the world does the girl mean? I am glad that witch gets off at Queenstown. I believe it is she who has mixed everything up. I wish I knew what she has been saying."

Miss Earle kept very closely to her room that day, and in the evening, as they approached the Fastnet Light, George Morris was not able to find her to tell her of the fact that they had sighted land. He took the liberty, however, of scribbling a little note to her, which the stewardess promised to deliver. He waited around the foot of the companion-way for an answer. The answer came in the person of Miss Katherine herself.

If refusing a man was any satisfaction, it seemed as if Miss Katherine Earle had obtained very little gratification from it. She looked weary and sad as she took the young man's arm, and her smile as she looked up at him had something very pathetic in it, as if a word might bring the tears. They sat in the chairs and watched the Irish coast. Morris pointed out objects here and there, and told her what they were. At last, when they went down to supper together, he said--