A New Sensation Part 25

Your Poor Friend,

MARJORIE.

St. Thomas, W.I., Jan. 29, 1898.

My hand trembled so before I had half read this letter that I could not make out the lines. I had to put it down to finish it. Twice I crept to the door to see if Miss May was still on the lawn, playing with Laps.

She was there, absorbed in her amus.e.m.e.nt and I finally finished it unchallenged. Then I left the room and went to my own, where I fell from sheer weakness upon my bed.

Marjorie loved me!

The reflection was overpowering. She was battling not only against me but against her own affections. I was absolutely dumfounded. What a train of thought swept through my heated brain!

At one instant I resolved to offer her my hand in marriage that very day and have the ceremony performed in the evening, by one of the clergymen of Charlotte Amelie, with Eggert and his wife as witnesses. At the next I planned a slow campaign to win her, which, with the evidence in my possession, could have but one result. The slower way would bring the most pleasure, if I could persuade myself to patience. Again, the vision of my Uncle Dugald rose before me, mutely protesting against an alliance with one of whom I knew practically nothing. Then Tom Barton and Statia joined the procession, shaking their heads dolefully.

Miss May's voice at my door aroused me to a sense of my condition and I bade her come in, if she was not afraid. She came quietly, removing as she did so her straw hat. A steamer had just entered the harbor, she said, that I might like to see. I always wanted to inspect each craft, and she supposed I would not like to miss this one.

I sat up and listened to her in a half daze. How little she knew that the burning secret under her calm exterior was already in my possession.

"Marjorie! Marjorie!"

I could only repeat the name in the joy of my discovery; repeat it to myself, lock it in the recesses of my inmost bosom.

I bathed my face, after which she took my brush and arranged my hair for me. How delicious her hands on my head! Some day they would be mine, and forever!

I suffered her to lead me out of doors and set me a chair before the telescope, which she arranged to command a view of the incoming steamer.

Eggert came while we were there, with a little trouble on his mind. The book that had annoyed Marjorie so--that copy of "Our Rival, the Rascal,"

had disappeared from his bookcase, and he wanted to know if either of us had seen it. Miss May shook her head with disgust, while I responded that I had left it on the table the night he showed it to me, and had never picked it up again.

Eggert turned to the steamer I was watching through the gla.s.s and said he had known for an hour what it was--his seaman's eye had told him that when only the tops of her smokestacks were visible.

It was going down the islands, he said, and would make its next stop at St. Croix.

An idea sprang into my head. Here was an opportunity to escape the daily visits of Mr. Wesson!

I asked how soon she would leave. Eggert said probably in an hour.

"We must pack our things at once, then," I exclaimed. "I have reasons for wanting to get to St. Croix to-day, and this is a chance not to be missed."

Eggert pleaded with me to wait for the Pretoria, as I had first intended, but I would not listen. I wanted action; the excitement of departure was just the thing in my state of mind. Miss May dutifully went to her chamber and put her things in their receptacles, coming afterward to mine and helping me appreciably. The covers were down, the keys turned in the locks, the typewriting machine in its bag, and everything ready in thirty minutes.

As I left my room my attention was attracted to Miss May, who was talking earnestly with some one from the adjoining veranda. I soon saw that little Thorwald was below, with a handsome mongoose in a trap, which he was exhibiting to her with much pride.

"What are you going to do with that poor creature?" she asked the lad.

"Going to kill him," he answered, in his sharp, clear way.

"Why do you want to kill that helpless thing?"

"Why I want to kill the mongoose?" he repeated. "You better ask why the mongoose want to kill my chickens. No, that little mongoose will never trouble my chickens any more."

"Will you sell him to me?" she asked, earnestly.

"You want to buy a mongoose?" asked the boy, incredulously. "No, you can never tame him. He will only bite you. See:" (he put down the trap and pushed a stick into the wire cage, which the animal bit ferociously.) "I don't think you want to buy that mongoose."

"But I do want to buy him," she insisted. "I will give you a dollar for him."

(It is a strange fact that the terms of trade are generally spoken of in United States money in these islands, even where the only coins are European.)

"You will give me a dollar for the mongoose?" said Thorwald's bright voice.

"Yes, I will gladly give you a dollar for him."

"You may have him," said the child, hanging up the cage and receiving the money, evidently hardly able to credit his eyes. "But the mongoose is not worth one cent."

Taking the trap to the ground on the other side of the house, Miss May lost no time in releasing the little prisoner from his bondage, whereupon he vanished with all speed in the shrubbery. She gave Thorwald his dollar, and as she came to where I stood, there were tears in her bright eyes.

I kissed the children hastily, handing them at the same time some small pieces of silver, settled my bill, directed the negroes who were summoned about the baggage, said good-by to everybody, from the Master to the scullery maid, and started down the long path to the boat. In ten minutes more we were being rowed toward the steamer, and a quarter of an hour later were safe on board.

As soon as our chairs were arranged on deck and we had dropped into them I felt the old weakness coming on. I could not endure such a strain without showing evidence that I had not yet wholly recovered my form. I asked a steward who happened to pa.s.s, to get me a brandy-and-soda.

"Close your eyes and try to sleep," said my companion, soothingly, as to a sick child. "You have been overdoing for the last hour."

I took her hand and tried to obey her. That dear little hand on which I would one day put the symbol of a love to last through eternity!

CHAPTER XVII.

A STRUGGLE ON THE BALCONY.

It was something to be free at last from Wesson. While I had nothing definite that I could bring against the man, he was in my way. I wanted to be alone with Marjorie. Not literally alone, for wherever we went there were people near by, of course; but alone as far as any one who had ever known us was concerned. As we approached St. Croix, my mercurial spirits began to rise again. When we were once more on sh.o.r.e, and domiciled in the second cla.s.s hostelry to which we were shown, I could have danced with glee. I could hardly refrain from giving vent to my feelings in a yell that would no doubt have astonished the quiet town as if a cannon had been discharged.

All through this part of the world the native population speak in tones so low that a foreigner has to listen intently to know what is being said. It is charming after you get used to it; one wonders how Northerners got into a habit of screaming when discussing the common events of the day. A negro or colored person (colored is only used here for people of mixed race) will address another a hundred feet away in as low a tone as the ordinary American would use at as many inches. I got partially into the same habit before I left the Islands. I only wish I had retained it and could persuade my friends to do likewise.

"What is there to do here?" asked Marjorie, as we sat in the evening on the balcony that projected from the house.

"Nothing whatever," I replied. "Unless it be to make love, and that, you will remember, is forbidden by our agreement."

She bit her lips, acted as if she were going to say something, and suppressed it, whatever it was.

"If you wish the stipulation removed," I continued, gaily, "there is no better opportunity than this. I believe I could make love, after my long abstinence, in a way that would do me credit."

She turned and surveyed my face for some seconds.

"In the same way you have often made love before, I presume," she said, finally; "and with the same degree of sincerity."

"No," I said, growing sober. "I have never loved a woman till recently.