Mrs. Falchion, Volume 1.

the saloon, or on deck. In the morning I was busy in the dispensary. While I was there, Justine Caron came to get some medicine that I had before given her. Her hand was now nearly well.

tor," she qu

ps a little. You see, madame did not sleep well last night, and I read t

asked mechanically, as

n English tales, but she said they were silly. I knew not what to do. But there was Shakespeare. I read Antony and Cleopatra, and she said that t

that; but when did

. I was glad, because she is very

eep concern you in t

ave no beauty. Besides, I am madame's servant,"-she blu

ou like mon

antly as she looked me in the

lashed, the lips quivered. Hers was not the face of cupidity. It was sensitive, yet firm, as with some purpose deep as her nature was by creation and experience, and always deepening that nature. I suddenly got the conviction that this girl had a sorrow of some kind in he

e, and then asked: "How

n, Miss

one

id you j

ustra

lia? You l

r, I did not

penal colony! I smiled as I said the word penal to myself. Of course the word could have no connection with a girl

if sorrowful. "Yes,

Whatever she was, I was sure that she was free from any fault. She evidently thought that I might suspect something unc

eak to Mrs. Falchion about her. I was scarcely prepared for her action then. Tears came to her eyes, and she said to me, her hand involuntarily clasping my arm: "Oh no, no! I ask you not to speak to madame. I will sleep-I will rest. Indeed, I will. This service is so much to me. She is most generous. I

gy. Mrs. Falchion, I knew, was selfish, and would not, or could not, see that she was hard upon the girl, by such exactions as midnight reading and loss of sleep. She demanded not merely physical but mental energy-a c

afraid of unpleasantness; but I impressed upon her that she must spare herself, or she would break do

"But, you see, it is not madam

ere is anything you can tell me, in which I might be able to help you, you may comma

ill tell you of such trouble as I have. But, believe me, it is no question of wrong at all, by any one -now

o relatives in F

ber; she died when I was very young. My father had riches, but they went before he died. Sti

gers; and told her that, when she pleased, I should be glad to do any service that lay in my p

elt sure, were marshalling to an unhappy conclusion. I wondered, too, what part I should play in the development of the comedy, tragedy, or whatever it was to be. In this connection I thought of Belle Treherne, and of how I should

n down cargo,

t put memory

t the full s

ake a black dee

foolish, it was infatuation, it was not right, but it i

ip, and why, in this warm climate, I can't understand. I'm afraid I shall have to heave-to, like the 'Fulvia', and lay up for repairs. And, by the way, I'm glad we are on our course again." He entered, and sat down. Belle Treherne bowed to me gravely, and smiled slightly. The smile was not

and was buried in the general cemetery at Aden. On the way out I was not able to fulfil the commission, because we passed Aden in the night. But there will be plenty of time to do so on Tuesday, I am told. This, however, is my difficulty: I cannot go unless I am better, and I'm afraid there is no such luck as that in store for me. These attacks last a week, at least. I wish my daughter, however, to go

ce showed no expression either of pleasure or displeasure. Mr. Treherne said bluffly: "Dr. Marmion, you are ki

ement at her own paraphrase of her father's speech, and she added: "Mrs. Callendar and myself will be much honoured indeed, and feel very

ersation upon a subject of mutual interest, in which his daughter joined on occasion, but not with enthusiasm. Yet, when they came to go, she turned and

east." Then I added gravely: "I should like my profession, in so far as I am concerned, to be worth your envy

........

thest south. No anxious soul leans out from the casement of life; the time is heavy with delightful ease. There is no sound that troubles; the world goes by and no one heeds; for it is all beyond this musky twilight and this pleasant hour. In this palace on the

ring flame behind it?-Do not shudder; it is nothing. No cry of pain came

long the decks. The long, smooth promenade is canopied and curtained, and hung with bann

shreds and patches, after all. It is but a pretty masquerade, in which feminine vanity beats hard against strangely-clothed bosoms; and masculine conceit is shown in the work of the barber's curling-irons and the ship-carpenter's wooden swords and paper helmets. The pride of these folk is not diminished because Hamlet's wig gets awry, or a Roman has trouble with his foolish garters. Few men or women can resist mumming; they

s. Let this imitation Cleopatra use the Cleopatra's arts; this mellow Romeo (sometime an Irish landlord) vow to this coy Juliet; this Helen of Troy- Of all who walked these decks, mantled and wigged in characters not their own, Mrs. Falchion was the handsomest, most convincing. With a graceful swaying movement she passed along the promenade, and even

n Hungerford entered, and exclaimed, as he took his pipe from his mouth in surprise: "Marmion, what does this mean? Don't you know your duties better? No officer may appear at these flare-ups in costume other than hi

ionally a few bars of The Buccaneer's Bride, but evidently occupied with something in his mind. At length he said: "Marmion, I said suburban innocence a

horough-bred of the ship. And if I have only one hop down the promenade, I want it to be with a girl who'll remind me of some one that is making West Kensington worth inhabiting. Only think, Marmion, of a girl like her-a graduate in arts, whose name and picture have been in all the papers-being willing to make up with me, Dick Hungerford! She is as natural and simple as a girl can be, and doesn't throw Greek roots at you, nor try to convince you of the difference between the songs of the troubadours and the sonnets of Petrarch. She doesn't care a rap whether Dante's

I understood that he was trying, in his blunt, honest way, to turn my thoughts definitely from Mrs. Falchion to Belle Treherne; and he never seemed to me such a goo

me to trip a waltz on t

ge of Sund

just four years ago tom

the No M

t talk of

now whether you have noticed him lately, but I tell you this: if we ever get into any trouble with this ship he'll go to pieces. Why, the other night

ing on you. What IS the use of bringing up unpleasant subjects? You are an old woman." I fear there was the slightest irritation in my voi

only a blunt, stupid sailor; and, to tell you God's truth, as I have told you before, every sailor is superstitious-every real sailor. He can't help it-I can't. I have a special fit on me now

egged his pardon, and c

instant stopped, and

nuckles crack! I'm off.

ared down

title; and I had also "sat out" one dance with her. Chancing to pass her as the evening wore on, I saw her in conversation with Mrs. Falchion, who had dismissed her cavalier, preferring to talk, she said, for dancing was tiresome work on the Indian Ocean. Belle Treherne, who up to that moment had never quite liked her, yielded to the agreeable charm of her conversation and her frank applausive remarks upon the costumes of the dancers. She had a good word for every one, and she drew her companion out to make the most

man. He came slowly forward, looking about him steadily, and, seeing me, moved towards me. But for his manner I should scarcely have recognised him. A dance was beginning; but many eyes were turned curiously, and e

wish you, if you will,

harle

hink this wi

ing to-night." He spoke very firmly, and showed n

emed for the moment to have put on also something of antique strength of mi

h her we had talked as we now did at table-as we did the first hour I met her-impersonally, sometimes (I am bold to say) amusingly. Now I approached her with apologies

e introduced to Helen. May I say that when Helen is not Helen she is M

enly a nervousness as unexpected as it was inconvenient, and my words,

ed and mentioned her name, following my introduction. I knew not what might occur, for I saw danger in her eyes in reply to the beseeching look in his. Would melodrama supervene

rew her hand quickly away, and, turning to him, said: "What is the name by whi

he felt the deadly coldness in her voice. "My name

t know you. . . . I never saw you before." Sh

nt on each other. "You do know me! Need I tell you that I am Boyd

u called yourself Mrs. Falchion," he

; but, really, you might be less exacting in your demands u

se years. I saw you in Colombo just before you came on board, and I felt that I must come also. You never loved me. Perhaps that is better for you, but you do not know what I suffer. If you could give me a chance, and come

d with a bitter laugh: "Not to begin the world again, but to end it as profitably and silently as I can. . . . Bu

our appearance," she said in a hard tone. "Your acting is very good, but not convincing. I cannot respond as would become the unity and

have turned my love to hate. From your smooth skin there I could strip those rags, and call upon them all to look at you-my wife-a felon's wife; mine to have and to hold-to hold, you hear!-as it was sworn at the altar. I bare my heart to you

d once it seemed as if this new development of his character, this animal fierceness, would conquer her: she

ing scenes." Then, with a low, cold anger, she continued: "It is only a coward that will dog a woman who finds his presence insupportable to her. This woman cannot, if she would, endure this man'

were very far away, "and her name was Mercy-her name was Mercy-Mercy Madras. I loved her. I sinned for her sake. A message came that she was dead to me; but I could not believe that it was so altogether, for I had knelt at her feet and worshipped her. I went to her, but she sent me away angrily. Years passed. 'She

? What could her ghost-as you call her-do, but offer the thing which her husband-when he was living-loved so well that he

es up by the sheer force of his will. "I need no money now," he coldly declared. "I need nothing-not even you; and can you fancy that, after waiting all these years for this hour, money would satisfy me? Do you know," he continued slowly and musingly, "I can look upon you now -yes, at th

the passion softened in his eyes, and said, putting his hand out towards yet not to touch her, "Goo

ive gloom. She too was furtive and gloomy at this moment. They were both sleek, silent, and remorseless. There was a

erect he walked. After a minute I approached her. She heard me coming, and presently turned to me with a curious smile. "Who is Mr. Charles Boyd?" she asked

ravel, until yesterday, with the second-class passengers. N

roper place?" The sugg

speak in that way?" w

oved on. "Because he wa

mined to bring her to

were you

worth while being so-to anyb

ssion you had met him

"He was ill the other day-he has heart trouble. It was necessary for me to open the c

an idle moment I had sketched the head, as I remembered it, on a sheet of paper, and now I took it from my

the head,

eresting," she said, "but one would think you might make better use of your time than by surreptitiously sketching portraits from sick men's breasts. One must have plenty of leisure to do that sort of thing, I should think. Be careful

not for always, and if anything happened to him it would seem curious to strange

What should happen? Y

tle nervousness

at an awkward possi

AT day?" she rejoined. I knew that she referred to the evening when I had yielded foolishly to the fas

their patents of nobility if you ha

f nobility, if it were my prerogative; for some would succeed in living up to them. Vanity would accomplish tha

educe honour and

rable occasion," she answer

n honourable life, to satisfy a social canon-to gratify,

with her father. She drew my attention to it by a s

That he shall appear well in their eyes, that their vanity in tur

r misery. Please come to the saloon an

s we passed among the dancers, she replied to congratulat

lly. His face showed solicitude as he walked away. Perhaps it did not gratify my vanity that Belle Treherne, as her father limped forward at the stroke of eight

hrough the darkness, rose the plaintive "All's well!" And it kept ringing in my ears until it became a mocking sound, from w

ling possessed me. I went below, and involu

inquired how he was, he said he was not ill, and asked me to come to his cabin in the morning, if I would. I promised, and bade