The Bachelors Part 31

"My dear Edith," Marian expostulated; "you mustn't be so fastidious. It doesn't make so much difference how these men propose; the main thing is to have them do it. Truly, I'm disappointed in you! Here you have been working desperately to lead him to a point where he would let you put the ball and chain on him, and then, for some silly little reason, you let him get away from you! Really, I'm disappointed! From what I've seen, you two seem admirably suited to each other."

"You don't understand, Marian," she protested; "he made this trip for the express purpose of picking out a wife--"

"In Bermuda? Why couldn't he find one nearer home?"

"The girl he had selected for the distinguished honor was in Bermuda--"

Marian Thatcher was interested. Her amus.e.m.e.nt over her friend's annoyances, real or imagined, became tempered by curiosity, and that changed a pa.s.sing incident into an event.

"He told you this and yet proposed to you? Who was the other girl?"

"You really don't know?"

"Certainly not. Why should I know? This is all news to me."

"I'm glad to be able to tell you something, my dear Marian," Edith said complacently. "You are so terribly superior it really cheers me up to have the chance to add to your knowledge, even in a small way. Mr.

Cosden came down here for the purpose of proposing to Merry."

"To Merry!" Marian cried. "That man had the audacity to think he could marry my child! Well, upon my soul! Why, he never saw her more than two or three times before he came to Bermuda! How could he possibly have fallen in love--"

"In love!" Edith laughed. "Love? That's a real joke! Mr. Cosden has never dealt in that commodity! I tell you, Marian, he just picks out the thing he wants, and then he gets it--"

"He could never get _my_ daughter."

"But you just said you admired men who had confidence in themselves--"

"I didn't say I cared for men with such unmitigated nerve as that. The idea!"

"You thought us well suited to each other."

"Certainly I did; that's an entirely different matter. You are just as mercenary as he, and I think you would make a perfect team,--but Merry!

Ho, ho! The audacity of it!"

Sitting on the edge of her steamer chair Marian tapped the deck excitedly with her toe and carefully adjusted an imaginary crease in her skirt. Suddenly she turned again to her companion.

"So he came down to get Merry,--and proposed to you?"

"Yes; rather well manoeuvered, wasn't it? You see, don't you, that my mercenary instincts saved you from an unpleasant maternal duty?"

"I bless you for it," Marian said heartily; "but you've refused him, so that leaves him loose to begin over again. He's not safe yet."

"I wouldn't worry about that just now," Edith rea.s.sured her. "Mr. Cosden has learned a few things since he has been under my instruction, and I think he will be less precipitate."

"Why don't you continue the good work and polish him up for yourself?

You must have found some good points or you wouldn't have gone to all this trouble."

"No, Marian; it's too big a contract. I once had hopes but they are gone. The first thing I knew he'd have me packed up in spite of myself and shipped off somewhere. I'm very disappointed, but I dare not take the chance."

It was fortunate, if Miss Stevens was to unburden her heart to her friend at all, that she acted so promptly, for after the headland of St.

George's and St. David's light-house faded away in the distance it became apparent that the elements were not kindly disposed toward those on board the "Arcadian." The air became oppressive in its sultriness, and the clouds gathered ominously. Within an hour the calmness of the sea was forgotten. The little party playing shuffleboard found it difficult to keep their feet, and of a sudden a sharp, vicious squall struck the boat, sending all uncertain pa.s.sengers to their state-rooms.

Luncheon, served with difficulty, found a reasonable number at their seats, but by dinner-time the "good sailors" might have selected any locations they chose. Nature had declared a division, and the state-room stewards found far greater demand upon their services than did those in the dining-saloon. The majority of the pa.s.sengers simply endured until the safe haven of New York harbor might be reached, the minority adjusted themselves to the conditions and made the most of them.

Merry and Huntington were among the fortunate minority.

"At last I have found something to struggle against!" she cried enthusiastically during the storm, as they stood in a sheltered position on deck watching the quivering steamer plow steadfastly through the great waves.

"Still eager for a struggle!" Huntington exclaimed smiling, understanding the spirit of the girl better than he cared to acknowledge. "I don't like to think of you as struggling at all."

"I must," she said firmly. "Unless I do, I feel myself slipping backwards."

"Of course," he admitted, "struggling means development, yet my wish for you is freedom from anything which opposes. Is it selfishness on my part, this desire to keep you as you are, or is it merely another of those paradoxes of which life is made up?"

"Whatever it is," Merry answered simply, "I know that your wish is for my good, for I know you are my friend."

She turned toward him as she spoke and looked full in his face with an expression of confidence in her own which tested Huntington's self-denial. But the years--the inexorable years--were there!

"It is you who have made me realize the necessity of struggling," she continued. "It is through the companionship I have had these weeks with you, and your friendship, that I have been able to crystallize ideas which before were so uncontrolled that they made me restless and discontented. What I heard you say to Mr. Hamlen, what I have seen in your every-day philosophy has taught me to concentrate my efforts in one grand struggle with myself."

"If you keep it there," Huntington answered, "I shall be content; it would be no kindness to wish it otherwise. But one of these days, little friend, some man will come along with a nature equal to your own, and in the division of the struggle you will find the happiness multiplied.

That will be your chance to contribute your share to the real life which you will jointly live."

"You have remembered what I said that first time we walked home from Mr.

Hamlen's!"

"I shall always remember it. From it I first learned the depth and beauty of your womanhood."

"Please, Mr. Huntington--" she begged deprecatingly; but her companion saw no reason to recall the words.

On the second morning the pa.s.sengers came up on deck in antic.i.p.ation of landing in the afternoon. Even Edith Stevens had pa.s.sed through the ordeal without the fatal results she had predicted. Cosden seized the first opportunity for a final word of reconciliation.

"Don't give me up," he urged. "I've learned a lot of things down here, and I appreciate what you have done for me more than I have shown. I'm going to do a bit of sandpapering when I get home, and I want you to let me run in to see you once in a while in New York, just to report progress."

And Edith, either because after her experiences she felt too weak to combat him, or because she thought he needed encouragement, ingloriously capitulated.

The final good-byes were said on the dock, after the customs officials had completed their inspection.

"Of course we'll see you in New York now and then," Mrs. Thatcher said to the two men; "and when we open up at the sh.o.r.e we must plan a real reunion."

"I shall hope to have Hamlen here by then," Huntington remarked.

"You are more optimistic than I; but in the mean time I shall be eager to receive news of him through you."

"Drop in at the office next time you're in town, Cosden," said Thatcher; "we'll talk over Consolidated Machinery and the Bermuda Trolleys."

"I'm thinking of getting out of business altogether, to devote myself to art," was Cosden's enigmatical reply; but the expression on Edith Stevens' face showed that at least she understood.