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Page 65
He could not see her face, but by the tone of her voice he knew it had
brightened. "Yes. I did a freakish thing the night we arrived at the
Killigrews'. I forced him into a corner, but it did not pan out as I
hoped. So far as it touched me, it wasn't necessary, as I have told
you a thousand times. Your past is nothing to me; your future is
everything, and I want it. God knows how I want it! Well, I wished to
find out what kind of man he is, but I wasn't very successful.
Hildegarde," and he pressed his hand down hard over hers, "I could find
a priest the day we land if you would love me. You will always
remember that."
"As if I could ever forget your kindness! But you forced him; there is
no merit in such a confession. And I wonder how you forced him. It
was not by fear. Much as I know him there are still some unfilled
pages. I would call him a scoundrel did I not know that in parts he
has been a hero. What sacrifices the man has made, and with what
patience!"
"To what end?" quietly.
"No, no, Arthur! I have promised him."
He took her by the arm roughly. "Let us make two or three rounds and
go back. We shan't grow any more cheerful talking this way."
"He loves her. I saw it in his eyes; and I must stand aside and watch!"
"So must I," he said. "Aren't you just a little selfish, Hildegarde?"
"I am wretched, Arthur; and I am a fool, besides. Oh, that I were
cold-blooded like your women, that I could eat out my heart in secret;
but I can't, I can't!"
"But you have courage; only use it. If what you say of him is true,
rest easy. She is not in his orbit. She will not be impressed by an
adventurer of his breed."
"Thank you!" with a broken laugh. "I am only an opera-singer, here on
suffrance."
"Oh, good Lord! I did not mean it that way. Let us finish the walk,"
savagely.
On the afternoon of the second day out, tea was served under the
awning, and Captain Flanagan condescended to leave his bridge for half
an hour. Through a previous hint dropped by the admiral they lured the
captain into spinning yarns; and well-salted hair-breadth escapes they
were. He understood that the admiral's guests always expected these
flights, and he was in nowise niggard. An ordinary sailor would have
been dead these twenty years, under any one of the exploits.
"Marvelous!" said M. Ferraud from the depths of his rugs. "And he
still lives to tell it?"
"It's the easiest thing in the world, sir, if y' know how," the captain
declared complacently. Indeed, he had recounted these yarns so many
times that he was beginning to regard them as facts. His statement,
ambiguous as it was, passed unchallenged, however; for not one had the
daring to inquire whether he referred to the telling or the living of
them. So he believed that he was looked upon as an apostle of truth.
Only the admiral had the temerity to look his captain squarely in the
eye and wink.
"Captain, would you mind if I put these tales in a book?" Fitzgerald
put this question with a seriousness which fooled no one but the
captain.
"You come up t' the bridge some afternoon, when we've got a smooth sea,
and I'll give y' some _real_ ones." The captain's vanity was soothed,
but he was not aware that he had put doubt upon his own veracity.
"That's kind of you."
"An' say!" went on the captain, drinking his tea, not because he liked
it but because it was customary, "I've got a character forwards. I'm
allus shippin' odds and ends. Got a Frenchman; hands like a lady."
Breitmann leaned forward, and M. Ferraud sat up.
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