The Marriage Of Esther Part 6

"Don't ask me, or try to find out. When I saw your face for the first time that wet night on the wharf in Sydney, I knew you to be the man for whom I was sent into the world. There is a year of grace before us, let us enjoy it--then--well _then I shall do my duty_."

Ellison put his hand on the small man's deformed shoulder.

"Silas, I don't grasp what you're driving at!"

"Then, as I say, don't seek to know. Believe that I'm a dreamer. Believe that I'm a little mad. I shall never speak of it to you again. But to-night I felt as if I must speak out--the hand of the Future was upon me. Good-night!"

"Good-night!"

As Murkard went in the woman rose from her chair, advanced to the veranda rails, and once more stood looking out across the bay. A clock in the Kanakas' hut struck ten. Then she too turned to go in. But before doing so she looked across at Ellison, and said kindly, "Good-night!"

"Good-night!" he called in return.

And all the silence of the world seemed to echo that "Good-night!"

CHAPTER III.

THE WORLD, THE FLESH, AND THE DEVIL.

Long before the first month was ended both men had settled down comfortably to their work-a-day existence. They had arrived at a thorough understanding of their duties, had made friends with their fellow-workers, and found it difficult to believe that they could be the same two men who were the beach-combers of the previous month. As for Murkard he derived the keenest pleasure from the daily, almost monotonous, routine of his office. He discovered abundance of work to keep him busy, his keen instinct detected endless opportunities of creating additional business, and he hoped that, when the owner of the station should return from his pearling venture, he might not only be in a position to convince him that his daughter's appointment was fully justified, but to demonstrate to him that it was likely to prove the stepping-stone to a sound commercial future. To Esther the man himself was a complete and continual mystery. Try how she would, she could not understand him. On one occasion a combination of circ.u.mstances led her to attempt to set him right on a certain matter connected with his own department. Much to her surprise and discomfiture she found him not only firmly resolved to a.s.sert his own independence, and to resist to the utmost any attempt at interference, but even prepared to instruct if need be. Routed on every side she had fled the field ignominiously, but though mortified at her rebuff, still she could not find it in her heart to quarrel with the man. To tell the truth, she was more than a little afraid of him, as he intended she should be. His sharp tongue and peculiar faculty of quiet ridicule were particularly distasteful to her.

She preferred venting her abuse upon his inoffensive companion--who, it would appear, absolutely failed to do anything to her complete satisfaction.

To Ellison, in spite of his joy at having found employment at last, that first month was not altogether one of happiness. He was too keenly conscious of his limited powers to be thoroughly at his ease, and yet he did his work from morning till night with dog-like faithfulness, grudging himself no labour, sparing himself no pains to ensure the faithful discharge of the duties entrusted to him. Not only that, but he often went out of his way to find work. She watched him and invariably found fault. So surely as his hard day's work was ended, would she discover something left undone. This she would never fail to point out to him, and the result well-nigh drove him distracted. And yet there were times when she was more than kind, bright days in his calendar that shone with a greater l.u.s.tre, perhaps, because they were so few and far between. As instance the following:

His own work being over for the day, he had crossed to the wood pile behind the kitchen and set to work sawing logs for the cook's fire. The wood was tough and the labour hard, but he kept the saw going with endless perseverance. As he came near the end of the supply, Esther chanced upon him. It was the first time he had seen her since the early morning.

"Good afternoon," he said, but did not desist from his labour.

"Good afternoon," she returned, regarding him for a moment, and then seating herself upon an upturned box beside him. "I think you will remember that I asked you for some screws for a corner bracket this morning."

"I beg your pardon; I think you asked if I could find any in the boat-house. I remembered having seen some, and offered to procure them.

You then determined that you would wait until to-morrow for them."

"Ah, yes! so I did. I had forgotten that."

"As you are clearly in the wrong, you might beg my pardon, I think."

"I don't see why. It is my duty to keep you up to your work."

"Very well, then we'll say no more. The screws shall be on your table on the veranda at ten o'clock to-morrow morning."

"Without fail?"

"Without fail. I always keep my word."

He went on with his sawing. She sat and watched him, and for the first time became aware of the elegance and symmetry of his figure.

"Not always, I think. I asked you yesterday to tell me what brought you to Australia; you said you would, but you have evidently forgotten your promise."

"Again you misinterpreted my speech. I think I said I could not bore you with it until I knew you better."

"And by that I am to understand that you won't tell me?"

"Not yet."

The saw cut through the log with a little whine, and the end dropped to the ground.

"You don't know me well enough yet to trust me, I suppose?"

"I know you as well as I suppose I ever shall know you. You are not a difficult person to understand."

"Have you so much experience of my s.e.x, then?"

"More than most men, perhaps. G.o.d help me!"

"You don't seem to realise that that is a dangerous admission to make to a woman."

"Why? You let me see very plainly yesterday that our ways lie far apart.

In fact, that whatever my rank may once have been, I am now only your father's servant."

She rose from the box on which she had been sitting and stamped her foot. He looked up and saw that indignant tears stood in her eyes.

"You are very unjust and very unkind. I'm sure I never said or implied anything of the sort."

"Then I must crave your pardon once more for misunderstanding you. I certainly understood that to be your meaning."

She sat down again and fell to sc.r.a.ping up the shavings and litter with her foot. He resumed his sawing. For the s.p.a.ce of about three minutes neither spoke. Then she said timidly:

"I notice that you are very patient and persevering."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye suspiciously. This was too novel and satisfactory not to make him a little distrustful.

"And pray what makes you think that?"

"For many reasons. One because you don't saw wood like most men I have seen. You go right through till the cut is even and the end drops off of its own weight. Most men saw it three parts through, then drive in a wedge, and break off the rest. It saves time, but it means laziness. I think I like your way best."

"It is very kind of you to say so."

"Oh, not at all. I thought as I've scolded you so often I ought to tell you of something I approve, that's all."

Decidedly he was a handsome man. She liked his colour, she liked his glow of health and strength, and she was not quite certain that she did not like his eyes; but she wasn't going to let him think she had the very smallest grain of admiration for him. He wondered what was coming next.

"All the same, you're not a very quick worker. I don't know that it's quite a profitable occupation for you. One of the boys would have done twice as much in half the time--not so neatly perhaps, but it would have burned just as well."

That was the way with her. He never made any advance but she drove him back further than he was originally. She saw how her last remark was affecting him, and a smile flickered over her face that was not altogether one of discouragement. He looked up just in time to catch it.