Nedra Part 12

"Not at all, Mr. Veath," she said, forgetting that a moment before she had considered him presumptuous. "On the contrary, I think it is so much nicer to have you on this side of the table. We can talk without having everybody in the room hear us."

"I have just heard that we are bound for the same destination and we can certainly speculate among ourselves as to the outcome of our individual and collective pilgrimages. We can talk about shipwrecks, pirates, simoons, cholera, sea serpents--"

"And the heathen," said Hugh maliciously, but not looking up from his plate.

"Ahem!" coughed loyal Mr. Veath.

"Are there any heathen over there?" asked Miss Vernon very innocently but also very maliciously. She smiled at Hugh, who leaned far back in his chair and winked solemnly at the bewildered Veath. That gentleman, manlike, interpreted Hugh's wink as the means of conveying the information that the tactful young lady asked the question merely to throw him off the scent. So he answered very politely but very carefully.

"I hear there are more missionaries than heathen."

"Indeed? Don't you think that the women who go out as missionaries among those vile creatures are perfect idiots, Mr. Veath?"

"Well,--ahem, ah," stammered Veath, "I can't say that I do. I think, if you will permit me to disagree with you, that they are the n.o.blest women in the world."

"Excellent sentiment, Veath," said the merry Ridgeway, "and quite worthy of endors.e.m.e.nt by this misguided sister of mine. She despises the heathen, you know."

"Oh, I am sure she does not despise them," cried Veath.

"But I do--I think they ought to be burned alive!"

A dead silence, during which the two men were unnecessarily intent upon the contents of their plates, followed this explosion. Miss Vernon demurely smiled to herself, and finally kicked Hugh's foot. He laughed aloud suddenly and insanely and then choked. Veath grew very red in the face, perhaps through restraint. The conversation from that moment was strained until the close of the meal, and they did not meet at all during dinner.

"Perhaps we have offended him," said Grace as they strolled along the deck that evening.

"It's probable that he thinks we are blamed fools and does not care to waste his time on us."

"Then why did he change his seat?"

"Evidently did not want us to be staring him out of countenance all the time. I notice, sister, that he took the seat next to yours and not to mine," remarked he insinuatingly.

"Which proves that _he_ is no fool, brother," she retorted.

CHAPTER VII

GLUM DAYS FOR MR. RIDGE

Gibraltar. And the ship stopping only long enough to receive the mail and take on pa.s.sengers; then off again.

During the voyage in the Bay of Biscay, Veath had done all in his power to relieve Hugh of the boredom which is supposed to fall upon the man who has a sister clinging to him. At first Hugh rather enjoyed the situation, but as Veath's amiable sacrifice became more intense, he grew correspondingly uncomfortable. It was not precisely what he had bargained for. There was nothing in Veath's manner which could have been objectionable to the most exacting of brothers.

When he was trespa.s.sing Hugh hated him, but when they were together, with Grace absent, he could not but admire the sunny-faced, frank, stalwart Indianian. When Hugh's heart was sorest, a slap on the back from Veath, a cheery word and an unspoken pledge of friendship brought shame to take the place of resentment.

She was troubled, as well as he, by the turn of affairs; her distress managed to keep her awake of nights, especially when she began to realize there was no escape from consequences. That usually pleasant word "brother" became unbearable to her; she began to despise it. To him, the word "sister" was the foundation for unpublishable impressions.

Poor Veath knew nothing of all this and continued to "show Miss Ridge a good time." On the second night out of Gibraltar, he and Grace were strolling the deck. He was happy, she in deep despair. Down at the other end of the deck-house, leaning over the rail, smoking viciously, was Hugh, alone, angry, sulky. It was a beautiful night, cool and crisp, calm and soft. A rich full moon threw its glorious shimmer across the waves, flashing a million silvery blades along the watery pavement that seemed to lead to the end of the world. Scores of pa.s.sengers were walking the deck, and all were happy, save two.

For two days Hugh had found but little chance to speak with Grace. She had plotted and calculated and so had he, but Veath gallantly upset the plans.

"This can't go on any longer, or I'll go back," vowed Hugh as he glared with gloomy eyes at the innocent path of silver.

"Your brother is not very sociable of late, is he, Miss Ridge?" asked Veath, as they turned once more up the deck toward the disconsolate relative. "There are a great many pretty young women on board, but he seems to ignore them completely. I haven't seen him speak to a woman in two days."

"Perhaps he is in love," she murmured half sedately. Poor, lonely Hugh!

How she longed to steal up from behind and throw her arms about his neck. Even though both fell overboard, it would be a pleasure, it seemed to her.

"We ought to go over and jolly him up a bit," suggested Veath, innocently magnanimous. She hated him at that moment.

"He is probably enjoying himself better than if we were with him," she said rather coldly.

"Lovers usually like moonshine," he said.

"I did not say he was in love; 'perhaps' was the word, I think," said Grace.

"I believe one of the rules of love is that a brother never confides in his sister. At any rate, she is sure to be among the last."

"I think Hugh would tell _me_ of his love affairs," she answered, a merry sparkle coming into her eyes. "He thinks a great deal of my opinions."

"And I suppose you tell him of your love affairs," he said jestingly.

She blushed furiously.

"He has a whole book full of my confidences," she finally said, seeking safety in exaggeration.

"Quite an interesting volume. How does it end? With an elopement?"

"Elopement! What do you--oh, ah, I--ha, ha! Wouldn't that be a jolly way to end it?" She laughed hysterically, recovering quickly from the effects of the startling, though careless question. For a few moments her heart throbbed violently.

Hugh came swinging toward them, his cigar tilted upward at an unusual angle because of the savage position of the lower jaw. His hands were jammed into his pockets and his cap was drawn well down over his eyes.

He was pa.s.sing without a word, ignoring them more completely than if they had been total strangers. He would, at least, have glanced at strangers.

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. Ridge, going below?" called Veath.

"I'm going wherever the ship goes," came the sullen reply.

"Hope _she's_ not going below," laughed the disturber.

"It's my only hope," was the bitter retort from the companionway.

"He's certainly in love, Miss Ridge. Men don't have the blues like that unless there's a woman in the case. I think you'd better talk to your brother. Tell him she'll be true, and if she isn't, convince him that there are just as good fish in the sea. Poor fellow, I suppose he thinks she's the only woman on earth," commented Mr. Veath, with mock solemnity.

"She may be as much at sea as he," she said,--and very truthfully.

"Well, if love dies, there is a consolation in knowing that the sea casts up its dead," was his sage, though ill-timed remark.

Grace slept but little that night, and went early to breakfast in the hope that she might see Hugh alone. But he came in late, haggard and pale, living evidence of a sleepless night. Veath was with him and her heart sank. During the meal the good-natured Indianian did most of the talking, being driven at last, by the strange reticence of his companions, to the narration of a series of personal experiences.

Struggle as he would, he could not bring a mirthful laugh from the girl beside him, nor from the sour visaged man beyond. They laughed, of course, but it was the laugh of politeness.