Victor's Triumph Part 52

Again Craven Kyte conveyed her orders to the man on the box, who touched up his horses.

And they were whirled rapidly on toward the Asterick Hotel, where they soon arrived.

"Hadn't I better tell the carriage to wait?" inquired Craven Kyte.

"No; send it away. We can pick up another one in a moment," answered his companion.

Craven Kyte paid and discharged the carriage, and they went into the house.

He took his companion up into the private parlor he had engaged for her, and he pressed her to partake of some refreshments while he packed up his portmanteau and paid his bill.

But she declined the refreshments and said she would wait, keeping herself closely veiled all the time.

He hurried through his business as fast as he could, and soon rejoined her.

He took her down to the cab he had engaged, and which was already packed with their luggage.

A half-hour's rapid drive took them to the railway station, which they reached only in time to buy their tickets, check their baggage and take their seats before the train started.

It was the express. And they were soon whirled through the country to the town where the bride chose to spend her honeymoon.

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

HER CRIME.

They took rooms in a pleasant hotel in the town, and after an early tea they strolled down to the water-side to look at the small shipping.

It was a delicious evening in September. The sun had just set, and the whole expanse of water was aflame with the afterglow.

A refreshing breeze had sprung up, and the river was alive with pleasure boats of every description, from the sail- to the row-boat.

And there were more boats for hire, at the service of any who might wish to amuse themselves upon the water.

"Take a boat. Craven, and let us go out for a row. The evening is so delightful, the sky and the water so beautiful," said the bride, coaxingly.

"I would like to do so, my angel; but, to tell the truth, I am a very inexperienced oarsman, and I can not swim at all," answered the poor fellow, apologetically.

"Are you afraid then, Craven?" she asked, with exasperating archness.

"No, love, not for myself, but for you. If by my awkwardness any accident should happen to you I think I should run raving mad," he answered, earnestly.

"Oh, well, never mind me! There is no cause for fear whatever, as far as I am concerned. I can row like a squaw and I can swim like a duck. And I think I could do so ever since I could walk. At least, I certainly do not remember the time when I could not swim," said the lady, laughingly.

"What a wonder you are--in everything!" exclaimed the lover-bridegroom, in a rapture of admiration.

"No wonder at all. I was brought up on the water-side, and was always a sort of amphibious little creature, as often in the water as out of it.

Come, now, will you hire a boat to please me?"

"Of course! I would do anything in the world to please you, my angel!"

"Then engage that little pea-green boat. It is a nice one," she said, pointing to a frail skiff moored near them.

"That, my dearest Mary? Why, that is a mere egg-sh.e.l.l! It could not live in rough water. And if this gentle breeze should rise into a wind--"

"Are you afraid?" she inquired, with provoking sarcasm.

"I say again not for myself, but for you."

"And I say again that there can be no ground of fear for me. I say again I can row like a squaw and swim like a duck. There! Now will you get the boat I want?"

"Yes, my darling, I will. And I will also take the precaution to hire the man in charge of it to help us row, in case of accidents."

"No, no, no; I won't have the man! He would spoil all our pleasure. I want you and myself to go out alone together, and have no interloper with us."

"But, my beloved--"

"I don't believe you love me at all, when you want a great hulking boatman to be in the boat with us, watching us," said the bride, with pretty childish petulance.

"Not love you? Oh, heaven of heavens! You _know_ how I love you--how I _adore_ you--how I _worship_ you!" he whispered, earnestly.

"Will you get the boat I want before it grows too dark?"

"Yes, yes, I will, my darling! I can refuse you nothing," said the infatuated bridegroom as he walked down to the water's edge and forthwith hired the one she had set her heart on.

Then he came back to take her down to the boat.

It was a mere sh.e.l.l, as he had said; and though the boatman declared that it could easily carry six if required, it did not look as if it would safely bear more than two or three pa.s.sengers at most.

They were soon floating out upon the water and down with the tide past the dingy colliers and the small trading vessels that were anch.o.r.ed there, and out among the coming and going sloops and schooners.

"Let me row toward that beautiful wooded sh.o.r.e. It is so lovely over there!" said Mary Grey, coaxingly.

"'Distance lends,' and so forth," smiled Craven Kyte, as he at once headed for the sh.o.r.e.

But the outgoing tide had left a muddy beach there, and so they had to keep at a respectful distance from it.

They rowed again to the middle of the river.

The afterglow had faded away, but the blue-black starlit sky was brilliantly reflected in the dark water.

When they had rowed an hour longer, back and forth from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, Craven Kyte drew in his oar and said:

"It is growing late and very dark, love. Had we not better go in?"