The Bachelors Part 30

As they mixed again with the others, and the conversation became more general, the seriousness of Hamlen's earlier bearing partially wore away, relieving the unnatural tension which had almost turned an informal social function into the observance of a religious rite. Then the shadows lengthened, and two of the servants brought out a rustic table laden with eatables, with a huge bowl of strawberries as a centerpiece. There was no need of decoration beyond its cut-gla.s.s and rare china, for each dish was a selected masterpiece.

"A Cla.s.s Day spread in February!" Merry exclaimed enthusiastically. "How we shall miss these strawberries when we get home!"

"'Strawberries may come and strawberries may go, but prunes go on forever,'" Cosden added, glancing at Edith for approval.

The whole experience affected Mrs. Thatcher deeply. She saw the Hamlen of her youth full of promise and ambition, she saw the Hamlen of to-day bound hand and foot in the bonds of his false sophistry. What would he have been had she not broken her word to him? She was vaguely conscious that her present emotion was deeper than any she had ever been called upon to feel for her husband or for her children; she half-sensed the fact that previously her deepest feelings had been for herself. Now she felt a sympathy which demanded rest.i.tution, and the impulse must be worthy since it was for the happiness of some one other than herself. Of course, Merry should not be coerced against her will,--but if it could only be!

Every episode, however epochful, must end, and Marian rose at length, indicating that the good-byes must be spoken.

"You'll be down to see us off, Philip?" she asked.

"No," he answered unexpectedly; "if you will excuse me I should prefer to watch you from my Point up there. I want you to remember me amid my own surroundings, rather than as a part of something to which I don't belong."

Next morning, as the little tender pa.s.sed Spanish Point, carrying its pa.s.sengers to the "Arcadian," three persons stood in the stern waving to a solitary figure standing erect and motionless. When he made out the greetings from the boat he raised his arm high above his head and held it there, like a Roman of old, in stately recognition. He gave no sign that he saw their further salutes, yet they knew he could not fail to see them. They remained there until the figure became smaller and smaller, and then finally was cut off altogether by a turn in their course.

"This is too much for me!" Mrs. Thatcher cried suddenly, as if apologizing for the break in her voice. "If I don't get my mind on something else I shall burst into tears! I'm going forward with the others."

Merry and Huntington still lingered, hoping that they might catch one more glimpse of the solitary watcher; but in vain. When the girl turned toward him Huntington saw that tears glistened in her eyes.

"That is the most pathetic figure I have ever seen!"

Huntington made no answer, but at that moment he became conscious that he was holding a small hand tightly grasped within his own. Impulsively he raised it to his lips, then he as suddenly released it.

"To seal our friendship," he explained consciously, "at this crisis in the life of one who has been the means of bringing us together. I owe him much for that!"

XXI

The "Arcadian" rested lazily at anchor just outside the harbor, apparently as willing as other visitors to drift on the tide of peace and contentment. The coils of smoke, rising straight upward from its funnels, supplied the only sign of intended departure. The bustle and activity usually attendant upon a sailing seemed absent, and the boat lay there like a pleasure-yacht ready to take on board its master's guests.

This impression deepened as the pa.s.sengers from the tender were transferred on board and moved about the s.p.a.cious decks, visiting their state-rooms resplendent with inviting bra.s.s bedsteads in place of the discouraging berths, and inspecting the swimming-pool.

"You must be sure of your weather before you indulge yourself there,"

Cosden remarked. "They told us, coming down, of a dignified British admiral who was tempted to a plunge, but no sooner was he in the pool than a young cyclone struck the boat, and for twenty minutes he was thrown forwards and backwards and sideways in spite of the efforts of the stewards to get him out. As he weighed nearly three hundred pounds the situation became serious. Finally, when the water was drawn off, he was dragged upon the stone slabs more dead than alive and held there until the storm abated, indifferent to the dignity of his person or to the glory of the British navy."

"That ought to act as an excellent flesh-reducer," Huntington commented.

"Perhaps it would serve in my efforts to alter my lines for speed."

"I don't see that you need it," Edith laughed; "but we'll all be down to give encouragement."

"About that time you'll be making love to your little bra.s.s bedstead,"

remarked Mrs. Thatcher.

Edith's face fell. "I forgot all about that!" she cried aghast. "You don't think it will be as rough going back as it was coming down, do you? Oh! I forgot all about that!"

"It's certain to be bad enough to make you feel 'very annoyed,'" Marian confirmed maliciously.

"Let's go on deck," Ricky Stevens said with a sudden show of interest; "it's so awfully stuffy down here!"

Edith gave him a glance of approval. "For once in your life, Richard Stevens, you have a real idea. I can feel the boat beginning to roll now."

"Nonsense!" Huntington laughed, "we're scarcely out of the harbor yet; but the deck is much the better place; we are pa.s.sing close to the sh.o.r.e and this last view of the islands is beautiful. We shall have ample opportunity to inspect the boat later on."

"I've seen all I want to," Edith a.s.serted, as they started back to the companion way. "It was silly of me to forget that awful experience coming down. I am sure the boat is rolling, in spite of your denials."

"Then look," Huntington insisted, as they stepped out on the deck again.

"You could navigate this sea in a canoe."

"Well, anyway," she compromised, "I shall be much more comfortable in my little steamer chair, so lead me to it."

Mrs. Thatcher, still affected by her last sight of Hamlen, was glad to sit down beside her friend while the others walked up and down the decks, watching the pa.s.sing panorama of the sh.o.r.e, knowing that it would last too short a time at best.

"Marian," Edith said suddenly, "I have a presentiment that I shall die of seasickness on this trip home, and there is something I want to say to you while I can."

"No one ever died of seasickness, child," Marian laughed; "but if you have something serious on your conscience the sooner you get it off the better."

"It's Mr. Cosden," Edith explained.

"I noticed that something had gone wrong in that quarter. Has he escaped you, after all?"

"It is really too bad of you to take advantage of me when I'm so ill!"

"My poor Edith!" Marian said soothingly, "forgive me, dear; I forgot your serious condition for the moment. Tell me about Mr. Cosden."

"He is impossible," the invalid announced. "I really thought there was some hope for him until a few days ago, but he is so frightfully commercial that he crocks."

"He--what?"

"It comes off on everything he touches. He can't look at anything from any other standpoint. It's a tragic disappointment to me, and I think it just as well that I am going to expire from this awful seasickness. I really thought I could train him, but he's too crude. That is the only word to use."

"He can't be that or he couldn't be Monty Huntington's friend. I rather like him. He's blunt and matter-of-fact and all that; but I like to see a man with confidence in himself."

"I have an idea that Mr. Huntington has somewhat revised his opinions. I certainly have; and whatever anybody else may think I agree with myself."

"That ought to be comforting to you, my dear; but I'm really sorry things haven't pulled through this time. I'm afraid it's your last chance. What did he do that was crude,--refuse to propose?"

Edith sat bolt upright, her cheeks flaming, with all signs of her recent indisposition vanished.

"I hate you in that tantalizing mood, Marian Thatcher! You always put the meanest interpretation on everything! Of course he proposed, but he didn't do it in a nice way; he just figured it out as if it was one of his business deals, and made me feel as if I ought to go right to the shipping department and get packed up."