Nedra Part 32

"Oh, no!" she cried decisively. "I don't believe I'd like it here with anybody but you. Now, don't look like that! I'm not such a fool as you may be thinking, Hugh. I know the world pretty well. I know how other people love, even though it has never been part of my lot. I'm not quite a hypocrite. I was not presented at court for nothing. You see, you are so good and we are such friends. It never occurred to me before, but I'm sure I couldn't endure being here with any other man I know. Isn't it queer I never thought of that?" she asked, in real wonder.

He looked at her steadily before answering. The flare of the torch revealed a childlike sincerity in her face, and he knew she did not realize the construction he might have been justified in according her impulsive confession. His heart throbbed silently. A wave of tenderness welled within him, bringing with it a longing to kiss the hem of her raiment, to touch her soft, black hair, to whisper gently in her ear, to clasp her hand, to do something fondly grateful.

"Are you quite sure of that?" he asked softly. She looked up into his eyes honestly, frankly, unwaveringly, pressing his arm with a smile of enthusiasm.

"Quite sure. Why not? Who could be better, more thoughtful, braver than you, and for the sake of a woman who, by mistake, owes her life to you?

When you have done so much for me, why should I not say that you are the man I like best of all I know? It is strange, perhaps, that it should make any particular difference, but it seems to me no other man could inspire the feeling of resignation and contentment that you do. Really, it isn't so hard to live in the wilderness, is it?"

"Have you never known any one else with whom you could have been contented here?" he asked persistently.

"Oh, I don't know what other men would be like if they were in your place," she said. She appeared deeply thoughtful for some time, as if trying to imagine others of her acquaintance in Hugh's place. "I am sure I cannot imagine any one being just like you," she went on, conclusively.

"No one you may have loved?"

"I have never loved anybody," she cried.

"Do you know what love means?"

"I haven't the faintest conception," she laughed, mockingly.

"I believe you said that to me some time ago," he said.

"I wish I could love," she said lightly. "But I suppose the chance is forever lost if I am doomed to stay on this island all my life."

His smile was understood by the night.

CHAPTER XXV

THE COMING OF THE ENEMY

A fever of queer emotions plagued Hugh's mind as he sought sleep that night. He lay awake on his couch of skins for hours, striving to put from himself the delightful conviction that had presented itself so suddenly. Through all his efforts to convince himself that his impressions were the result of self-conceit or a too willing egotism, there persistently ran the tantalizing memory of her simple confession.

When at last he slept it was to dream that a gentle hand was caressing his forehead and loving fingers were running through his hair. For a while the hand was Grace Vernon's, then it was Tennys Huntingford's, then Grace's, then the other's. Its touch brought a curve to his lips.

While he lay awake in these wondering hours and slept through the changing dream, the cause of his mingled emotions lay in the next apartment, peacefully asleep from the moment her head touched the pillow, totally unconscious of the minutest change in her heart or in their relationship, as contented as the night about her.

The next morning he was speculatively quiet and she was brightly talkative as they ate breakfast. He was awake when she took her refreshing plunge in the pool, and heard her conversing learnedly with her attendants, as if they understood all that she said--which they did not. It was then that he thought what a solitude life would be if she were not a part, of it. There was nothing in her manner to indicate that she remembered their conversation of the night before. In fact, it was apparent that she was wholly unconscious of the impression it had made.

Two of her white-robed attendants stood in the doorway while they ate, another industriously fanning them. The flowing white robes were innovations of the past few days, and their wearers were pictures of expressive resignation. Robes had been worn only by Mozzos prior to the revolution of customs inaugurated by the white Izor, and there was woeful tripping of brown feminine feet over treacherous folds.

"Those ghastly gowns remind me that this is the day for our flag raising," said he. "I guess the banner is strong enough to stand the winds that whistle around the tops of the gateposts, isn't it?"

Her thoughts reverted to the white signal that floated from the summit of the big mount at whose base they had been cast up from the sea. Hugh, having completed the meal, went to the end of the room, where, stretched along the wall, hung a huge American flag. Days had been consumed by the women in the manufacture of this piece of woven gra.s.s. He had created red stripes from an indelible berry stain. A blue background for the stars was ingeniously formed by cutting out s.p.a.ces through which the sky could gleam. A strong pole lay on the floor and all was in readiness for the raising of the Stars and Stripes over the Island of Nedra. Their hope was that it might eventually meet the eye of some pa.s.sing navigator.

"By the way, Hugh," she said, standing beside him, a trace of antagonism in her voice, "who discovered this island, a Briton or an American?"

"Why I--an American, of course! Great Scott! I--I certainly did, didn't I?" he exclaimed, aghast, gradually comprehending that she had a moral claim, at least.

"That is the question," she said simply.

He walked over and sat down rather heavily on one of the stone blocks.

"I saw it from the sea," he stammered.

"And so did I."

For some moments he sat gazing at the flag, actual distress in his eyes.

She looked away and smiled faintly.

"I didn't think, Tennys; truly I did not. You have as much right to claim the discovery as I. Why have you not spoken of this before?"

"You seemed so happy over the flag that I couldn't, Hugh," she said, still looking away.

"Poor old flag! It's the first time you ever tried to wave dishonestly or where there was a doubt of your supremacy." He came to her side.

"We'll have no flag raising."

"What!" she cried, strangely disappointed.

"Not until we have made a British flag to wave beside this one."

"I was jesting, Hugh, just to see what you would say. The flag shall go up. You--you are the master, as you should be, Hugh."

"You have as much right as I," he protested.

"Then I'll be an American," she cried. "We'll raise our flag."

"But you are not an American."

"Granting that I was the first to see the island, was I not under protection of an American? I have been under American protection ever since. What has Great Britain to do with the situation? I demand the protection of the Stars and Stripes. Will you deny me?" Her eyes were sparkling eagerly. "Could the British have landed had it not been for the American?"

"You really don't care?"

"This is our flag, Hugh," she said seriously. "It will make me unhappy if you continue to take my jest as an earnest. We made it and I shall be proud to have it wave over me."

A few hours later the Stars and Stripes floated high over a new island of the sea, far from the land of its birth.

"How good and grand it looks," she cried as they saw it straighten to the breeze. "After all, it may be waving over its own, Hugh. The United States bought several thousands of islands in this section of the world, I've heard," she added, with a touch of irony.

"It's the flag I love," he cried. "May G.o.d let me kiss once more the soil she calls home. Dear America!"

From that day he never looked at the dancing, wriggling stripes without a surge of emotion. Its every flaunt seemed to beckon brave worshippers from far across the sea to the forlorn island on which it was patiently waving.

An uneventful week pa.s.sed. A Nedrite who had escaped from the Island of Oolooz brought word to King Pootoo that the enemy was completing preparation for a stupendous a.s.sault, but a close watch on the sea failed to reveal signs of the approach. Ridgeway and his eager followers were fully prepared for the a.s.sault. The prospect was now a.s.suming the appearance of a European war cloud--all talk and no fight. But as King Pootoo insisted in vague earnestness that the informer was trustworthy, precautionary measures were not relaxed at any time. Hugh was now the possessor of a heavy sword made of the metallic-like wood. It had two edges and resembled an old-fashioned broadsword.

"I feel like a Saumeri," he announced.

When he found that fairly sharp blades could be wrought from this timber, he had knives and hatchets made for private use, his own trusty pocket knife being glorified by promotion. He whetted the blade to the keenest possible edge and used it as a razor. Tennys compelled him to seek a secluded spot for his, weekly shave, decreeing that the morals of the natives should not be ruined in their infancy by an opportunity to acquire first-cla.s.s, fully developed American profanity.