The Celebrity Part 29

I stood, with the hatful of berries in my hand, like a stiff wax figure in a museum. The expected had come at last; and how little do we expect the expected when it comes! I was aware that both the young women were looking at me, and that both were quietly laughing. And I must have cut a ridiculous figure indeed, though I have since been informed on good authority that this was not so. Much I cared then what happened. Then came Miss Trevor's reply, and it seemed to shake the very foundations of my wits.

"But, Marian," said she, "you can't have him. He is engaged to me. And if it's quite the same to you, I want him myself. It isn't often, you know, that one has the opportunity to marry a Celebrity."

The Celebrity turned around: an expression of extraordinary intelligence shot across his face, and I knew then that the hole in the well-nigh invulnerable armor of his conceit had been found at last. And Miss Thorn, of all people, had discovered it.

"Engaged to you?" she cried, "I can't believe it. He would be untrue to everything he has written."

"My word should be sufficient," said Miss Trevor, stiffly. (May I be hung if they hadn't acted it all out before.) "If you should wish proofs, however, I have several notes from him which are at your service, and an inscribed photograph. No, Marian," she added, shaking her head, "I really cannot give him up."

Miss Thorn rose and confronted him, and her dignity was inspiring. "Is this so?" she demanded; "is it true that you are engaged to marry Miss Trevor?"

The Bone of Contention was badly troubled. He had undoubtedly known what it was to have two women quarrelling over his hand at the same time, but I am willing to bet that the sensation of having them come together in his presence was new to him.

"I did not think--" he began. "I was not aware that Miss Trevor looked upon the matter in that light, and you know--"

"What disgusting equivocation," Miss Trevor interrupted. "He asked me point blank to marry him, and of course I consented. He has never mentioned to me that he wished to break the engagement, and I wouldn't have broken it."

I felt like a newsboy in a gallery,--I wanted to cheer. And the Celebrity kicked the stones and things.

"Who would have thought," she persisted, "that the author of The Sybarites, the man who chose Desmond for a hero, could play thus idly with the heart of woman? The man who wrote these beautiful lines: 'Inconstancy in a woman, because of the present social conditions, is sometimes pardonable. In a man, nothing is more despicable.' And how poetic a justice it is that he has to marry me, and is thus forced to lead the life of self-denial he has conceived for his hero. Mr. Crocker, will you be my attorney if he should offer any objections?"

The humor of this proved too much for the three of us, and Miss Trevor herself went into peals of laughter. Would that the Celebrity could have seen his own face. I doubt if even he could have described it. But I wished for his sake that the earth might have kindly opened and taken him in.

"Marian," said Miss Trevor, "I am going to be very generous. I relinquish the prize to you, and to you only. And I flatter myself there are not many girls in this world who would do it."

"Thank you, Irene," Miss Thorn replied gravely, "much as I want him, I could not think of depriving you."

Well, there is a limit to all endurance, and the Celebrity had reached his.

"Crocker," he said, "how far is it to the Canadian Pacific?"

I told him.

"I think I had best be starting," said he.

And a moment later he had disappeared into the woods.

We stood gazing in the direction he had taken, until the sound of his progress had died away. The shock of it all had considerably muddled my brain, and when at last I had adjusted my thoughts to the new conditions, a sensation of relief, of happiness, of joy (call it what you will), came upon me, and I could scarce restrain an impulse to toss my hat in the air. He was gone at last! But that was not the reason. I was safe from O'Meara and calumny. Nor was this all. And I did not dare to look at Miss Thorn. The knowledge that she had planned and carried out with dignity and success such a campaign filled me with awe. That I had misjudged her made me despise myself. Then I became aware that she was speaking to me, and I turned.

"Mr. Crocker, do you think there is any danger that he will lose his way?"

"No, Miss Thorn," I replied; "he has only to get to the top of that ridge and strike the road for Saville, as I told him."

We were silent again until Miss Trevor remarked:

"Well, he deserved every bit of it."

"And more, Irene," said Miss Thorn, laughing; "he deserved to marry you."

"I think he won't come West again for a very long time," said I.

Miss Trevor regarded me wickedly, and I knew what was coming.

"I hope you are convinced, now, Mr. Crocker, that our s.e.x is not as black as you painted it: that Miss Thorn knew what she was about, and that she is not the inconsistent and variable creature you took her to be."

I felt the blood rush to my face, and Miss Thorn, too, became scarlet.

She went up to the mischievous Irene and grasping her arms from behind, bent them until she cried for mercy.

"How strong you are, Marian! It is an outrage to hurt me so. I haven't said anything." But she was incorrigible, and when she had twisted free she began again:

"I took it upon myself to speak a few parables to Mr. Crocker the other day. You know, Marian, that he is one of these level-headed old fogies who think women ought to be kept in a menagerie, behind bars, to be inspected on Sat.u.r.day afternoons. Now, I appeal to you if it wouldn't be disastrous to fall in love with a man of such ideas. And just to let you know what a literal old law-brief he is, when I said he had had a hat-pin sticking in him for several weeks, he nearly jumped overboard, and began to feel himself all over. Did you know that he actually believed you were doing your best to get married to the Celebrity?"

(Here she dodged Miss Thorn again.) "Oh, yes, he confided in me. He used to worry himself ill over that. I'll tell you what he said to me only--"

But fortunately at this juncture Miss Trevor was captured again, and Miss Thorn put her hand over her mouth. Heaven only knows what she would have said!

The two boats did not arrive until nearly four o'clock, owing to some trouble to the tug's propeller. Not knowing what excuse my client might have given for leaving some of his party ash.o.r.e, I thought it best to go out to meet them. Seated on the cabin roof of the Maria I beheld Mr.

Cooke and McCann in conversation, each with a black cigar too big for him.

"h.e.l.lo, Crocker, old man," shouted my client, "did you think I was never coming back? I've had lots of sport out of this hayseed captain" (and he poked that official playfully), "but I didn't get any grub. So we'll have to go to Far Harbor."

I caught the hint. Mr. Cooke had given out that he had started for Saville to restock the larder.

"No," he continued, "Bra.s.s b.u.t.tons didn't let me get to Saville. You see, when he got back to town last night they told him he had been buncoed out of the biggest thing for years, and they got it into his head that I was child enough to run a ferry for criminals. They told him he wasn't the sleuth he thought he was, so he came back. They'll have the laugh on him now, for sure."

McCann listened with admirable good-nature, gravely pulling at his cigar, and eyeing Mr. Cooke with a friendly air of admiration.

"Mr. Crocker," he said, with melancholy humor, "it's leery I am with the whole shooting-match. Mr. Cooke here is a gentleman, every inch of him, and so be you, Mr. Crocker. But I'm just after taking a look at the hole in the bottom of the boat. 'Ye have yer bunks in queer places, Mr.

Cooke,' says I. It's not for me to be doubting a gentleman's word, sir, but I'm thinking me man is over the hills and far away, and that's true for ye."

Mr. Cooke winked expressively.

"McCann, you've been jerked," said he. "Have another bottle!"

The Sinclair towed us to Far Harbor for a consideration, the wind being strong again from the south, and McCann was induced by the affable owner to remain on the yellow-plush yacht. I cornered him before we had gone a great distance.

"McCann," said I, "what made you come back to-day?"

"Faith, Mr. Crocker, I don't care if I am telling you. I always had a liking for you, sir, and bechune you and me it was that divil O'Meara what made all the trouble. I wasn't taking his money, not me; the saints forbid! But glory be to G.o.d, if he didn't raise a rumpus whin I come back without Allen! It was sure he was that the gent left that place,--what are ye calling it?--Mohair, in the Maria, and we telegraphs over to Asquith. He swore I'd lose me job if I didn't fetch him to-day.

Mr. Crocker, sir, it's the lumber business I'll be startin' next week,"

said McCann.

"Don't let that worry you, McCann," I answered. "I will see that you don't lose your place, and I give you my word again that Charles Wrexell Allen has never been aboard this yacht, or at Mohair to my knowledge.

What is more, I will prove it to-morrow to your satisfaction."

McCann's faith was touching.

"Ye're not to say another word, sir," he said, and he stuck out his big hand, which I grasped warmly.