The Odds - Ethel May Dell (read full novel .TXT) 📗

like sailing into Paradise, isn't it? Are any of your people there, Big Bear?"
"Perhaps," said Merefleet.
"Won't you be pleased to see them?" she said, with a touch of wonder at the indifference in his tone.
"I want nothing but you, my darling," he said, and his lips were on her hair.
He felt her fingers close upon his own.
"I guess it won't matter in Heaven," she said, as though trying to convince herself of something. "My dear, shall I tell you something? I love you with all my heart. I never knew it till to-day. And if we weren't so near Heaven I reckon I couldn't ever have told you."
Some time later she began to talk in a dreamy way of the Great Haven whither they were drifting. The sun was high by then and beat in a wonderful, dazzling glory on the pathless waters.
"There's no sun There," said Mab. "But I guess it will be very bright. And there will be crowds and crowds along the Shore to see us come into Port. And I'll see my little baby among them. I told you about him, Big Bear. Finest little chap in New York City. He'll be holding out his arms to me, just like he used. Ah! I can almost see him now. Look at his curls. Aren't they fine? And his little angel face. There isn't anyone like him, I guess. Everybody said he was the cutest baby in U.S. Coming, darling! Coming!"
Mab's hands slackened from Merefleet's clasp, and suddenly she stretched out her arms to the sky. The holiest of all earthly raptures was on her face.
Then with a sharp sigh she came to herself and turned back to Merefleet. A piteous little smile hovered about her quivering lips.
"I guess I've been dreaming, Big Bear," she said. "Such a dream! Oh, such a gorgeous, heavenly dream!"
And she hid her face on his breast and burst into tears.


CHAPTER XIII

Before the sun set they were sighted by the cruiser returning to her anchorage outside the little fishing-harbour. Mab, worn out by hunger and exposure, had slipped back to her former position in the bottom of the boat. She was half asleep and seemed dazed when Merefleet told her of their approaching deliverance. But she clung fast to him when a boat from the cruiser came alongside; and he lifted her into it himself.
"By Jove, sir, you've had a bad time!" said a young officer in the boat.
"Thirty hours," said Merefleet briefly.
He kept his arm about the girl, though his brain swam dizzily. And Mab, consciously or unconsciously, held his hand in a tight clasp.
Merefleet felt as if she were definitely removed out of his reach when she was lifted from his hold at length, and the impression remained with him after he gained the cruiser's deck. He met with most courteous solicitude on all sides and was soon on the high-road to recovery.
Later in the evening, when Mab also was sufficiently restored to appear on deck, the cruiser steamed into Silverstrand Harbour, and the two voyagers were landed by one of her boats, in the midst of great rejoicing on the quay.
Seton, who had long since returned from a fruitless search for tidings, was among the crowd of spectators. He said little by way of greeting, and there was considerable strain apparent in his manner towards Merefleet. He hurried his cousin back to the hotel with a haste not wholly bred of the moment's expediency. Merefleet followed at a more leisurely pace. He made no attempt to join them, however. He had done his part. There remained no more to do. With a heavy sense of irrevocable loss he went to bed and slept the dreamless sleep of exhaustion for many hours.
The adventure was over. It had ended with a tameness that gave it an almost commonplace aspect. But Merefleet's resolution was of stout manufacture.
The consequences of that night and day of peril involved his whole future. Merefleet recognised this and resolved to act forthwith, in defiance of Seton or any other obstacle. He did not realise till later that there was opposed to him a strength which even his will was powerless to overcome. He did not even take the possibility of this into consideration.
He was very sure of himself and confident of success when he descended late on the following morning to a solitary breakfast--sure of himself, sure of the smile of that fickle goddess Fortune--sure, thrice sure, of the woman he loved.
And he watched for her coming with a rapture that deprived him of his appetite.
But Mab did not come.
Instead, Herbert Seton presently strolled into the room, greeted him, and paused by his table.
"Be good enough to join me on the terrace presently, will you?" he said abruptly.
And Merefleet nodded with a chill sense of foreboding. But his resolution was unalterable. This young man should not, he was determined, by any means cheat him now of his heart's desire. Matters had gone too far for that. He followed Seton almost at once and found him in a quiet corner, smoking. Merefleet sat down beside him and also began to smoke. There was a touch of hostility about Seton that he was determined to ignore.
"Well," said Seton at length, with characteristic bluntness, "so you have done it in spite of my warning the other night."
Merefleet looked at him. Was he expected to render an account of his doings to this man who was at least ten years his junior, he wondered, with faint amusement?
Seton went on with strong indignation.
"I told you in the first place not to be too intimate with her. I told you again two nights ago that she was not free to accept any man's attentions. But you went on. And you have made her miserable simply for the gratification of your own unreasonable fancy. Do you call that manly behaviour, I wonder?"
Merefleet sat in absolute silence for several seconds. Finally he wheeled round in his chair and faced Seton.
"If I were you," he said quietly, "I should postpone this interview for half-an-hour. I think you may possibly regret it if you don't."
Seton tossed away a half-smoked cigarette and rose.
"In half-an-hour," he said, "I shall have left this place, and my cousin with me. I asked to speak to you because I detest all underhand dealings. You apparently have not the same scruples."
Merefleet also rose.
"You will apologise for that," he said, in a tone of conviction. "I don't question your motives, but to fetch me out here and then insult me was not a wise proceeding on your part."
Seton's hand clenched involuntarily. But he had put himself in the wrong, and he knew it.
"Very well," he said at length, with a shrug. "I apologise for the expression. But my opinion of you remains unaltered."
Merefleet ignored the qualification. He was bent on something more important than the satisfaction of his own personal honour. "And now," he said, with deliberate purpose, "I am going to have a private interview with your cousin."
Seton started.
"You are going to do nothing of the sort," he said instantly.
Merefleet looked him over gravely.
"Look here, Seton!" he said. "You're making a fool of yourself. Take a friend's advice--don't!"
Seton choked back his anger with a great effort. In spite of this there was a passionate ring in his voice when he spoke that betrayed the exceeding precariousness of his self-control.
"I can't let you see her," he said. "She is upset enough already. I have promised her that she shall not be worried."
"Have you promised her to keep me from speaking to her?" Merefleet grimly enquired.
"No." Seton spoke reluctantly.
"Then do this," said Merefleet. "Go to her and ask her if she will see me alone. If she says 'No,' I give you my word that I will leave this place and trouble neither of you any further."
Seton seemed to hesitate, but Merefleet was sure of his acquiescence. After a pause of several seconds he fulfilled his expectations and went.
Merefleet sat down again and waited. Seton returned heavy-footed.
"She will see you," he said curtly. "You will find her in the billiard-room."
"Alone?" said Merefleet, rising.
"Alone."
And Merefleet walked away.


CHAPTER XIV

He found her sitting in a great arm-chair at one end of the empty billiard-room. She did not rise to meet him. He thought she looked tired out and frightened.
He went to her and stooped over her, taking her hands. She did not resist him, but neither did she welcome. Her lips were quivering painfully.
"What have I done that you should run away from me?" Merefleet asked her very gently.
She shook her head with a helpless gesture.
"Mr. Merefleet," she whispered, "try--try not to be cross any! I'm afraid I've made a big mistake."
"My dear, we all make them," Merefleet said with grave kindliness.
"I know," she faltered. "I know. But mine was a real bad one."
"Never mind, child!" he said tenderly. "Why should you tell me?"
She threw a swift look into his face. She was trembling violently.
"Big Bear," she cried with sudden vehemence, "you don't understand."
He knelt down beside her and put his arm about her.
"Listen to me, my darling," he said, and she shrank at the deep thrill in his voice. "To me you are all that is beautiful and good and holy. I do not want to know what lies behind you. I know you have had trouble. But it is over. You may have made mistakes. But they are over, too. Tell me nothing! Leave the past alone! Only give me your present and your future. I shall be quite content."
He paused. She was shivering within his encircling arm. He could hear her breath coming and going very quickly.
"You love me, darling," he said. "And is it necessary for me to tell you that I worship you as no one ever has worshipped you before?"
He paused again. But Mab did not speak. The beautiful face was working painfully. Her hands were tightly clasped in his.
"Child, what is it?" Merefleet said, conscious of a hidden barrier between them. "Can't you trust yourself to me? Is that it? Are you afraid of me? You didn't shrink from me yesterday."
She bowed her head. Yesterday she had wept in his arms. But to-day no tears came. Only a halting whisper, a woman's cry of sheer weakness.
"Don't tempt me, Big Bear!" she murmured. "Oh, don't tempt me! I am not--free!"
Merefleet's face grew stern.
"You did not say that yesterday," he said.
She heard the change in his tone, and looked up. She was better able to meet this from him.
"I know," she said. "And I guess that was where I went wrong. I ought to have waited till we were dead. But, you see, I didn't know."
"Then do you tell me you are not free?" Merefleet said. "Do you mean literally that? Are you the actual property of another man?"
She shook her head with baffling promptitude.
"I guess I'm just Death's property, Big Bear," she said, with a wistful little smile. "But he doesn't seem over-keen on having me."
"Stop!" said Merefleet harshly. "I won't have you talk like that. It's madness. Tell me what you mean!"
"I can't," Mab said. "I can't tell you. It wouldn't be fair. Don't be angry, Big Bear! It's just the price I've got to pay. And it's no use squirming. I've worried it round and round. But it always comes back to that. I'm not free. And no one but Bert must ever know why."
Merefleet sprang to his feet with an impatience by no means characteristic of him.
"This is