The Marriage Of Esther Part 16

"But what proof have you that they will believe your tale?"

"The Government Resident's word. He has guaranteed the truth of my statement."

Not another syllable did Ellison utter. His lips moved, but no sound came from them. Then suddenly, with a little cry, he stretched out his arms towards the counter as if to sustain himself, and missing that, fell p.r.o.ne in a dead faint upon the floor.

In a minute or two Murkard had brought him back to consciousness.

"What on earth's the matter with you, Ellison?" he cried. "You're surely not going to give way now that the business is accomplished?"

"I don't know," the other replied shamefacedly, as soon as he was sufficiently recovered to talk. "I suppose the anxiety has been too much for me. My wife must know nothing of this, remember."

"Trust me. And now I shall advise you to keep very quiet until the answer comes. There is nothing to be gained by knocking yourself up, and everything, whichever way you look at it, by being calm."

"But, Murkard, for the life of me I don't understand how you managed it.

No family in the world would advance such a sum without full and strict inquiry."

"Can you trust me, Ellison?"

"Implicitly--but----"

"There must be no 'buts,' I have taken the matter in hand. The Government Resident, who believes in me, strangely enough, has guaranteed the authenticity of what I have said. I have put the matter clearly before your family, and I leave it to their sense of justice to do what we ask. Remember if, as I said last night, there is any blame to be incurred by anyone, I take it."

"Murkard, I am not fit to look you in the face. I am a cur of the worst kind."

"Hus.h.!.+ hus.h.!.+ you mustn't say such things of yourself."

"But I mean it! I mean every word I say! I am not fit to----"

"Whatever you are, Cuthbert, I don't want to know it. I have told you before, and I tell you again, our destinies, yours and mine, are one.

Come what may, I _must_ help you."

"You have been the truest friend that mortal man ever had."

"And I shall continue to be until the day of my death. Whatever you may do, right or wrong, I shall stand by you. Never doubt that."

"Silas, I have a good mind to make a clean breast of everything to you."

"No, no! Don't tell me anything. I would rather not hear. All I want to know, I know. The rest lies outside the pale, and is no concern of mine."

"But it _does_ concern you. It concerns you very vitally, more vitally than you think."

"Then I refuse to hear it. If you attempt to make me, I shall be compelled to leave the place, to go away from the island."

"You are very obstinate."

"No, old friend. It is only kindness to you and your wife that makes me do it. Now I must get to my books. If this money is to arrive, we must be prepared for it. I see a golden future ahead of us."

Ellison pa.s.sed out of the door saying to himself, "And I only ruin and disgrace."

He spent the rest of that day as one in a dream. He went about his work unconsciously, a great fear hanging over him like a suspended sword.

Again and again he argued the case with himself. In a moment of sudden mental aberration--vanity, perhaps, at any rate, he could hardly say what--he had represented himself to be someone he was not. He had intended to leave the place next day; he had no intention or wish to deceive for any criminal or base purpose of his own. He had simply craved the girl's interest and sympathy, and then the deed was done.

What could he do now? As he had told himself last night, if he went to his wife and confessed everything, she would loathe and despise him for the rest of his existence. He would be a detected liar and cheat without excuse of any kind. Now that Murkard had taken this course, the same inevitable result would ensue, only increased by the fact that his crime would be known to the whole world, and he would suffer the penalty, thereby bringing ruin and disgrace unspeakable upon those who loved him best. But, on the other hand, his wife had to be saved, and he had done it with his eyes open. It was too late to draw back now, and the blow might fall at any time. Yet, come what might, he could not tell Esther while she was in this critical condition. Small wonder, then, that he hung his head and looked as if all joy had pa.s.sed out of his existence forever.

Next morning Murkard again set off for the towns.h.i.+p. In an hour he returned jubilant. Ellison saw his boat approach, from the store veranda, and hastened down to meet him, his heart beating wildly.

Murkard waved to him from the boat.

"It is done!" he cried, as he stepped ash.o.r.e, his usually pale face aglow with excitement. "The cable arrived last night! A thousand pounds is placed to your credit in the bank. The rest will follow in a month.

Good Heaven, Cuthbert, what is the matter?"

Ellison had thrown himself upon the sand, and was sobbing like a little child.

"Poor old chap!" said Murkard, seating himself beside him. "You're overwrought. The waiting has been too much for you. Never mind, now we are safe. The money is here, our credit is restored. Sh.e.l.l has gone up in the London market, and now we'll begin to make up for lost time.

Come, come, you mustn't behave like this. Supposing any of the hands should see you?"

"It must all be repaid," Ellison answered almost fiercely, as soon as he recovered his composure, "every penny of it! I shall never rest until I have done that. Tell me everything, from first to last. Don't hide a word or detail from me. I must know everything!"

"You will know nothing more than I have already told you. Cuthbert, you must trust me. You have known me a long time now. Is your trust in my fidelity strong enough to convince you that I would do nothing that could bring you to any harm?"

"I am sure of that. But it is not enough to satisfy my fears for myself.

I am making myself responsible for all this money. I must know exactly how you obtained it from--from my people, and on what terms. I _must_ know it!"

"I got it from them on the plea that you had settled down to a respectable, honest, reputable business out here. That you had married a quiet, ladylike girl. That times were bad, and unless you could raise the amount of money asked for, you would be thrown upon the world again, and all your good resolutions scattered to the winds. The Government Resident and Blake the banker corroborated my a.s.sertions, and I made myself a surety, a poor one perhaps, but still a surety for the amount.

Your father, the duke, cabled through his bankers to Blake that you might draw on him to the extent of one thousand pounds, and that the rest of the money would be dispatched during the present week. I have the papers for the one thousand pounds in my pocket now. You must sign them. In the meantime I have taken the liberty of cabling your thanks home."

"It was to save her--only to save her. Whatever happens, remember that!"

"What do you mean? You look as glum as a man about to be hanged. Come, come, Cuthbert, put a happier face on it, if only out of compliment to me. You are saved now! You can improve your business; you can send out more boats and do what you have been hankering after for a long time now, establish a floating station for your fleet."

"Yes, yes; we can certainly do more. But at what a cost?"

"My dear fellow, the cost will be nothing to the gains. Besides, you can always repay."

"I was not thinking of that cost. You don't know what an awful business this has been to me. The agony I have been through these past two days has made me an old man."

"Eating humble-pie, you mean? I can understand your feelings. But still it's done now, and what is better, well done. Now come to the store with me and sign those papers."

They went up the hill together, and with a trembling hand Ellison signed what was asked of him. This done, he tottered rather than walked out of the store towards his own abode. He went into the dining room and filled himself half a tumbler of whiskey, which he drank almost neat.

The spirit pulled him together, and he departed in search of his wife.

By the time he found her the liquor had begun to take effect. He became almost excited. She was sewing in the shade of the back veranda. He seated himself beside her, and with his left hand smoothed her soft brown hair.

"Little woman," he said, "I have great news for you. The happiest of happy news. We are saved; the overdraft will be paid off, and we are in smooth water again. In other words, the money has arrived."

"From your father, Cuthbert? Oh, you don't mean that?"

"But I do. The good Murkard was worked it admirably. A cablegram arrived this morning authorising me to draw on him for a thousand pounds. A draft for four thousand more will leave London this week."

"Thank G.o.d for his mercy! Oh, Cuthbert, what can I say to show you how pleased I am? And you deserve it too, you poor, hard-working boy. Your face has been so long and solemn lately that I have been more than anxious about you."

"You need not be so any longer then, my sweet. The crisis is past. Now we will begin to put the money to practical use. I have all sorts of schemes in my mind. Dearie, you must say something nice to Murkard about it. For it is his cleverness that has brought it all about."