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Page 40
The philosopher of the Expedition was not a man to be silenced by
referring him to the Garden of Eden. Paradise itself was not
perfect to John Want.
"I hope I could be cheerful anywhere, sir," said the ship's cook.
"But you mark my words--there must have been a deal of
troublesome work with the flower-beds in the Garden of Eden."
Having entered that unanswerable protest, John Want shouldered
the box, and drifted drearily out of the boat-house.
Left by himself, Crayford looked at his watch, and called to a
sailor outside.
"Where are the ladies?" he asked.
"Mrs. Crayford is coming this way, sir. She was just behind you
when you came in."
"Is Miss Burnham with her?"
"No, sir; Miss Burnham is down on the beach with the passengers.
I heard the young lady asking after you, sir."
"Asking after me?" Crayford considered with himself as he
repeated the words. He added, in lower and graver tones, "You had
better tell Miss Burnham you have seen me here."
The man made his salute and went out. Crayford took a turn in the
boat-house.
Rescued from death in the Arctic wastes, and reunited to a
beautiful wife, the lieutenant looked, nevertheless,
unaccountably anxious and depressed. What could he be thinking
of? He was thinking of Clara.
On the first day when the rescued men were received on board the
_Amazon_, Clara had embarrassed and distressed, not Crayford
only, but the other officers of the Expedition as well, by the
manner in which she questioned them on the subject of Francis
Aldersley and Richard Wardour. She had shown no signs of dismay
or despair when she heard that no news had been received of the
two missing men. She had even smiled sadly to herself, when
Crayford (out of compassionate regard for her) declared that he
and his comrades had not given up the hope of seeing Frank and
Wardour yet. It was only when the lieutenant had expressed
himself in those terms and when it was hoped that the painful
subject had been dismissed--that Clara had startled every one
present by announcing that she had something still to say in
relation to Frank and Wardour, which had not been said yet.
Though she spoke guardedly, her next words revealed suspicions of
foul play lurking in her mind--exactly reflecting similar
suspicions lurking in Crayford's mind--which so distressed the
lieutenant, and so surprised his comrades, as to render them
quite incapable of answering her. The warnings of the storm which
shortly afterward broke over the vessel were then visible in sea
and sky. Crayford made them his excuse for abruptly leaving the
cabin in which the conversation had taken place. His brother
officers, profiting by his example, pleaded their duties on deck,
and followed him out.
On the next day, and the next, the tempest still raged--and the
passengers were not able to leave their state-rooms. But now,
when the weather had moderated and the ship had anchored--now,
when officers and passengers alike were on shore, with leisure
time at their disposal--Clara had opportunities of returning to
the subject of the lost men, and of asking questions in relation
to them which would make it impossible for Crayford to plead an
excuse for not answering her. How was he to meet those questions?
How could he still keep her in ignorance of the truth?
These were the reflections which now troubled Crayford, and which
presented him, after his rescue, in the strangely inappropriate
character of a depressed and anxious man. His brother officers,
as he well knew, looked to him to take the chief responsibility.
If he declined to accept it, he would instantly confirm the
horrible suspicion in Clara's mind. The emergency must be met;
but how to meet it--at once honorably and mercifully--was more
than Crayford could tell. He was still lost in his own gloomy
thoughts when his wife entered the boat-house. Turning to look at
her, he saw his own perturbations and anxieties plainly reflected
in Mrs. Crayford's face.
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