The Lion and The Mouse Part 6

He had begun to call her by her first name quite naturally, as if it were a matter of course. Indeed, their relations had come to be more like those of brother and sister than anything else. Shirley was too much troubled over the news from home to have a mind for other things, and in her distress she had turned to Jefferson for advice and help as she would have looked to an elder brother. He had felt this impulse to confide in him and consult his opinion and it had pleased him more than he dared betray. He had shown her all the sympathy of which his warm, generous nature was capable, yet secretly he did not regret that events had necessitated this sudden return home together on the same ship. He was sorry for Judge Rossmore, of course, and there was nothing he would not do on his return to secure a withdrawal of the charges. That his father would use his influence he had no doubt. But meantime he was selfish enough to be glad for the opportunity it gave him to be a whole week alone with Shirley. No matter how much one may be with people in city or country or even when stopping at the same hotel or house, there is no place in the world where two persons, especially when they are of the opposite s.e.x, can become so intimate as on shipboard. The reason is obvious. The days are long and monotonous. There is nowhere to go, nothing to see but the ocean, nothing to do but read, talk or promenade. Seclusion in one's stuffy cabin is out of the question, the public sitting rooms are noisy and impossible, only a steamer chair on deck is comfortable and once there snugly wrapped up in a rug it is surprising how quickly another chair makes its appearance alongside and how welcome one is apt to make the intruder.

Thus events combined with the weather conspired to bring Shirley and Jefferson more closely together. The sea had been rough ever since they sailed, keeping Mrs. Blake confined to her stateroom almost continuously. They were, therefore, constantly in one another's company, and slowly, unconsciously, there was taking root in their hearts the germ of the only real and lasting love--the love born of something higher than mere physical attraction, the n.o.bler, more enduring affection that is born of mutual sympathy, a.s.sociation and companionship.

"Isn't it beautiful?" exclaimed Shirley ecstatically. "Look at those great waves out there! See how majestically they soar and how gracefully they fall!"

"Glorious!" a.s.sented Jefferson sharing her enthusiasm. "There's nothing to compare with it. It's Nature's grandest spectacle. The ocean is the only place on earth that man has not defiled and spoiled. Those waves are the same now as they were on the day of creation."

"Not the day of creation. You mean during the aeons of time creation was evolving," corrected Shirley.

"I meant that of course," a.s.sented Jefferson. "When one says 'day'

that is only a form of speech."

"Why not be accurate?" persisted Shirley. "It was the use of that little word 'day' which has given the theologians so many sleepless nights."

There was a roguish twinkle in her eye. She well knew that he thought as she did on metaphysical questions, but she could not resist teasing him.

Like Jefferson, she was not a member of any church, although her nature was deeply religious. Hers was the religion the soul inculcates, not that which is learned by rote in the temple. She was a Christian because she thought Christ the greatest figure in world history, and also because her own conduct of life was modelled upon Christian principles and virtues. She was religious for religion's sake and not for public ostentation. The mystery of life awed her and while her intelligence could not accept all the doctrines of dogmatic religion she did not go so far as Jefferson, who was a frank agnostic. She would not admit that we do not know.

The longings and aspirations of her own soul convinced her of the existence of a Supreme Being, First Cause, Divine Intelligence--call it what you will--which had brought out of chaos the wonderful order of the universe. The human mind was, indeed, helpless to conceive such a First Cause in any form and lay prostrate before the Unknown, yet she herself was an enthusiastic delver into scientific hypothesis and the teachings of Darwin, Spencer, Haeckel had satisfied her intellect if they had failed to content her soul. The theory of evolution as applied to life on her own little planet appealed strongly to her because it accounted plausibly for the presence of man on earth. The process through which we had pa.s.sed could be understood by every intelligence. The blazing satellite, violently detached from the parent sun starting on its circ.u.mscribed orbit--that was the first stage, the gradual subsidence of the flames and the cooling of the crust--the second stage: the gases mingling and forming water which covered the earth--the third stage; the retreating of the waters and the appearance of the land--the fourth stage; the appearance of vegetation and animal life--the fifth stage; then, after a long interval and through constant evolution and change the appearance of man, which was the sixth stage. What stages still to come, who knows? This simple account given by science was, after all, practically identical with the biblical legend!

It was when Shirley was face to face with Nature in her wildest and most primitive aspects that this deep rooted religious feeling moved her most strongly. At these times she felt herself another being, exalted, sublimated, lifted from this little world with its petty affairs and vanities up to dizzy heights. She had felt the same sensation when for the first time she had viewed the glories of the snow clad Matterhorn, she had felt it when on a summer's night at sea she had sat on deck and watched with fascinated awe the resplendent radiance of the countless stars, she felt it now as she looked at the foaming, tumbling waves.

"It is so beautiful," she murmured as she turned to walk. The ship was rolling a little and she took Jefferson's arm to steady herself. Shirley was an athletic girl and had all the ease and grace of carriage that comes of much tennis and golf playing.

Barely twenty-four years old, she was still in the first flush of youth and health, and there was nothing she loved so much as exercise and fresh air. After a few turns on deck, there was a ruddy glow in her cheeks that was good to see and many an admiring glance was cast at the young couple as they strode briskly up and down past the double rows of elongated steamer chairs.

They had the deck pretty much to themselves. It was only four o'clock, too early for the appet.i.te-stimulating walk before dinner, and their fellow pa.s.sengers were basking in the sunshine, stretched out on their chairs in two even rows like so many mummies on exhibition. Some were reading, some were dozing. Two or three were under the weather, completely prostrated, their bilious complexion of a deathly greenish hue. At each new roll of the ship, they closed their eyes as if resigned to the worst that might happen and their immediate neighbours furtively eyed each of their movements as if apprehensive of what any moment might bring forth. A few couples were flirting to their heart's content under the friendly cover of the lifeboats which, as on most of the transatlantic liners, were more useful in saving reputations than in saving life. The deck steward was pa.s.sing round tea and biscuits, much to the disgust of the ill ones, but to the keen satisfaction of the stronger stomached pa.s.sengers who on shipboard never seem to be able to get enough to eat and drink. On the bridge, the second officer, a tall, handsome man with the points of his moustache trained upwards a la Kaiser Wilhelm, was striding back and forth, every now and then sweeping the horizon with his gla.s.s and relieving the monotony of his duties by ogling the better looking women pa.s.sengers.

"h.e.l.lo, Shirley!" called out a voice from a heap of rugs as Shirley and Jefferson pa.s.sed the rows of chairs.

They stopped short and discovered Mrs. Blake ensconced in a cozy corner, sheltered from the wind.

"Why, aunt Milly," exclaimed Shirley surprised. "I thought you were downstairs. I didn't think you could stand this sea."

"It is a little rougher than I care to have it," responded Mrs.

Blake with a wry grimace and putting her hand to her breast as if to appease disturbing qualms. "It was so stuffy in the cabin I could not bear it. It's more pleasant here but it's getting a little cool and I think I'll go below. Where have you children been all afternoon?"

Jefferson volunteered to explain.

"The children have been rhapsodizing over the beauties of the ocean," he laughed. With a sly glance at Shirley, he added, "Your niece has been coaching me in metaphysics."

Shirley shook her finger at him.

"Now Jefferson, if you make fun of me I'll never talk seriously with you again."

"_Wie geht es, meine damen?_"

Shirley turned on hearing the guttural salutation. It was Captain Hegermann, the commander of the ship, a big florid Saxon with great bushy golden whiskers and a ba.s.so voice like Edouard de Reszke. He was imposing in his smart uniform and gold braid and his manner had the self-reliant, authoritative air usual in men who have great responsibilities and are accustomed to command. He was taking his afternoon stroll and had stopped to chat with his lady pa.s.sengers. He had already pa.s.sed Mrs. Blake a dozen times and not noticed her, but now her pretty niece was with her, which altered the situation. He talked to the aunt and looked at Shirley, much to the annoyance of Jefferson, who muttered things under his breath.

"When shall we be in, captain?" asked Mrs. Blake anxiously, forgetting that this was one of the questions which according to ship etiquette must never be asked of the officers.

But as long as he could ignore Mrs. Blake and gaze at Shirley Capt. Hegermann did not mind. He answered amiably:

"At the rate we are going, we ought to sight Fire Island sometime to-morrow evening. If we do, that will get us to our dock about 11 o'clock Friday morning, I fancy." Then addressing Shirley direct he said:

"And you, fraulein, I hope you won't be glad the voyage is over?"

Shirley sighed and a worried, anxious look came into her face.

"Yes, Captain, I shall be very glad. It is not pleasure that is bringing me back to America so soon."

The captain elevated his eyebrows. He was sorry the young lady had anxieties to keep her so serious, and he hoped she would find everything all right on her arrival. Then, politely saluting, he pa.s.sed on, only to halt again a few paces on where his bewhiskered gallantry met with more encouragement.

Mrs. Blake rose from her chair. The air was decidedly cooler, she would go downstairs and prepare for dinner. Shirley said she would remain on deck a little longer. She was tired of walking, so when her aunt left them she took her chair and told Jefferson to get another. He wanted nothing better, but before seating himself he took the rugs and wrapped Shirley up with all the solicitude of a mother caring for her first born. Arranging the pillow under her head, he asked:

"Is that comfortable?"

She nodded, smiling at him.

"You're a good boy, Jeff. But you'll spoil me."

"Nonsense," he stammered as he took another chair and put himself by her side. "As if any fellow wouldn't give his boots to do a little job like that for you!"

She seemed to take no notice of the covert compliment. In fact, she already took it as a matter of course that Jefferson was very fond of her.

Did she love him? She hardly knew. Certainly she thought more of him than of any other man she knew and she readily believed that she could be with him for the rest of her life and like him better every day. Then, too, they had become more intimate during the last few days. This trouble, this unknown peril had drawn them together. Yes, she would be sorry if she were to see Jefferson paying attention to another woman. Was this love? Perhaps.

These thoughts were running through her mind as they sat there side by side isolated from the main herd of pa.s.sengers, each silent, watching through the open rail the foaming water as it rushed past. Jefferson had been casting furtive glances at his companion and as he noted her serious, pensive face he thought how pretty she was. He wondered what she was thinking of and suddenly inspired no doubt by the mysterious power that enables some people to read the thoughts of others, he said abruptly:

"Shirley, I can read your thoughts. You were thinking of me."

She was startled for a moment but immediately recovered her self possession. It never occurred to her to deny it. She pondered for a moment and then replied:

"You are right, Jeff, I was thinking of you. How did you guess?"

He leaned over her chair and took her hand. She made no resistance. Her delicate, slender hand lay pa.s.sively in his big brown one and met his grasp frankly, cordially. He whispered:

"What were you thinking of me--good or bad?"

"Good, of course. How could I think anything bad of you?"

She turned her eyes on him in wonderment. Then she went on:

"I was wondering how a girl could distinguish between the feeling she has for a man she merely likes, and the feeling she has for a man she loves."

Jefferson bent eagerly forward so as to lose no word that might fall from those coveted lips.

"In what category would I be placed?" he asked.

"I don't quite know," she answered, laughingly. Then seriously, she added: "Jeff, why should we act like children? Your actions, more than your words, have told me that you love me. I have known it all along. If I have appeared cold and indifferent it is because"--she hesitated.