The Lust of Hate, Guy Newell Boothby [essential books to read .txt] 📗

doubt if there is a man in this world whose career has

been more devoid of good fortune than mine. As a boy, I was unlucky

in everything I undertook. If I played cricket, I was always either

bowled for a duck’s egg, or run out just as I was beginning to score.

If there was an accident in the football field, when I was playing, I

was invariably the sufferer. I left Oxford under a cloud, because I

could not explain something that I knew to be a mistake on the part

of the authorities. I quarrelled with my family on the same

misunderstanding. I was once on the verge of becoming a millionaire,

but illness prevented my taking advantage of my opportunity; and

while I was thus delayed another man stepped in and forestalled me. I

had a legacy, but it brought me nothing but ill-luck, and has finally

driver me out of England!”

 

“And since then the tide of ill-fortune has turned,” he said. “A

beautiful and wealthy girl falls overheard—you dive in, and rescue

her. I have heard about that, you see. The ship you are travelling by

goes to the bottom—you save your own and the same girl’s life. Then,

as if that is not enough, you try your luck a third time; and, just

as a terrible fate seems to be going to settle you for good and all,

we heave in sight and rescue you. Now you have Miss Maybourne’s

gratitude, which would strike most men as a more than desirable

possession, and at the same time you will have her father’s.”

 

“And, by the peculiar irony of fate, both come to me when I am

quite powerless to take advantage of them.”

 

“Come, come, you mustn’t let yourself down like this. You know

very well what the end of it all will be, if you spend your life

believing yourself to be a marked man.”

 

“You mean that I shall lose my reason? No, no! you needn’t be

afraid of that. I come of a hard-headed race that has not been in the

habit of stocking asylums.”

 

“I am glad of that. Now what do you say to getting up? I’ll have

your breakfast sent to you in here, and after you’ve eaten it, I’ll

introduce you to some of the passengers. On the whole, they are a

nice lot, and very much interested in my two patients.”

 

I thanked him, and, to show how very much better I felt, sprang out of

bed and began to dress. True to his promise, my breakfast was brought to

me by a steward, and I partook of it on the chart-room table. Just as I

finished the doctor reappeared, and, after a little conversation, we

left the cabin and proceeded out on to the deck together. Here we found

the majority of the passengers promenading, or seated in their chairs.

Among them I noticed two clergymen, two or three elderly gentlemen of

the colonial merchant type, a couple of dapper young fellows whom I set

down in my own mind as belonging to the military profession, the usual

number of elderly ladies, half a dozen younger ones, of more or less

fascinating appearances, and the same number of children. As soon as

they saw me several of those seated rose and came to meet us. The doctor

performed the necessary introductions, and in a few minutes I found

myself seated in a comfortable deck-chair receiving innumerable

congratulations on my recovery. Strange to say, I did not dislike their

sympathy as much as I had imagined I should do. There was something so

spontaneous and unaffected about it that I would have defied even the

most sensitive to take offence. To my astonishment, I discovered that no

less than three were personal friends of Miss Maybourne’s, though all

confessed to having failed in recognising her when the boat came

alongside. For the greater part of the morning I remained chatting in my

chair, and by mid-day felt so much stronger that, on the doctor’s

suggestion, I ventured to accompany him down to the saloon for lunch.

The King of Carthage was a finer vessel in every way than the ill-fated

Fiji Princess. Her saloon was situated amidships, and could have

contained the other twice over comfortably. The appointments generally

were on a scale of great magnificence; and, from what I saw at lunch,

the living was on a scale to correspond. I sat at a small table presided

over by the doctor, and situated near the foot of the companion ladder.

In the pauses of the meal I looked round at the fine paintings let into

the panels between the ports, at the thick carpet upon the floor, the

glass dome overhead, and then at the alley-ways leading to the cabins at

either end. In which direction did Miss Maybourne’s cabin lie, I

wondered. The doctor must have guessed what was passing in my mind, for

he nodded his head towards the after-alley on the starboard side, and

from that time forward I found my eyes continually reverting to it.

 

Luncheon over, I returned to the promenade-deck, and, after a

smoke—the first in which I had indulged since we left the

island—acted on the doctor’s advice, and went to my cabin to lie

down for an hour or so.

 

When I returned to the deck, afternoon tea was going forward, and

a chair having been found for me, I was invited to take a cup. “While

I was drinking it, the skipper put in an appearance. He waited until

I had finished, and then said he would like to show me something if I

would accompany him along the deck to his private cabin. When we

reached it, he opened the door and invited me to enter. I did so,

and, as I crossed the threshold, gave a little start of surprise, for

Miss Maybourne was there, lying upon the locker.

 

“Why, Miss Maybourne!” I cried, in complete astonishment, “this is

a pleasant surprise. I had no idea you were about again. I hope you

are feeling stronger.”

 

“Much stronger,” she answered. “I expect I shall soon be

quite myself again, now that I have once made a start. Mr. Wrexford,

I asked Captain Blockman to let me see you in here for the first

time, in order that I might have an opportunity of expressing my

gratitude to you before we face the passengers. You cannot imagine

how grateful I am to you for all you have done for me since that

awful night when the Fiji Princess went down. How can I ever

repay you for it?”

 

“By becoming yourself again as quickly as possible,” I answered;

“I ask no better payment.”

 

I thought she looked at me in rather a strange way as I said this;

but it was not until some time later that I knew the reason of it. At

the time I would have given worlds to have spoken the thoughts that

were in my mind; but that being impossible, I had to hold my tongue,

though my heart should break under the strain. We were both silent

for a little while, and then Miss Maybourne took my hand, and I could

see that she was steeling herself to ask me some question, and was

not quite certain what answer she would receive to it.

 

“Mr. Wrexford,” she began, and there was a little falter in her

voice as she spoke, “you told me on board the Fiji Princess

that you were going to South Africa to try and obtain employment. You

must forgive my saying anything about it, but I also gathered from

what you told me that you would arrive there without influence of any

sort. Now, I want you to promise me that you will let papa help you.

I’m sure he will be only too grateful for the chance. It would be a

kindness to him, for he will remember that, but for you, he would

never have seen me again.”

 

“I did not do it for the sake of reward, Miss Maybourne,” I

answered, with an outburst of foolish pride that was not very

becoming to me.

 

“Who knows that better than I?” she replied, her face flushing at

the thought that she had offended me. “But you must not be angry with

me. It would be kind of you to let me show my gratitude in some way.

Papa would be so glad to give you letters of introduction, or to

introduce you personally to people of influence, and then there is

nothing you might not be able to do. You will let him help you, won’t

you?”

 

If she could only have known what she was asking of me! To be

introduced to the prominent people of the colony was the very last

thing in the world I wanted. My desire was to not only attract as

little attention as might be, but also to get up country and beyond

the reach of civilization as quickly as possible.

 

However, I was not going to make Miss Maybourne unhappy on the

first day of her convalescence, so I promised to consider the matter,

and to let her know my decision before we reached Cape Town. By this

compromise I hoped to be able to hit upon some way out of the

difficulty before then.

 

From that day forward the voyage was as pleasant as it would be

possible for one to be. Delicate as was our position on board, we

were not allowed for one moment to feel that we were not upon the

same footing as those who had paid heavily for their accommodation.

The officers and passengers vied with each other in showing us

kindnesses, and, as may be imagined, we were not slow to express our

gratitude.

 

Day after day slipped quickly by, and each one brought us nearer

and nearer to our destination. As the distance lessened my old fears

returned upon me. After all the attention I had received from our

fellow-travellers, after Miss Maybourne’s gracious behaviour towards

me, it will be readily imagined how much I dreaded the chance of

exposure. How much better, I asked myself, would it not be to drop

quietly overboard while my secret was still undiscovered, than to

stay on board and be proclaimed a murderer before them all?

 

On the evening prior to our reaching Cape Town I was leaning on

the rails of the promenade deck, just below the bridge, when Miss

Maybourne left a lady with whom she had been conversing, and came and

stood beside me. The evening was cool, and for this reason she had

thrown a lace mantilla, lent her by one of the passengers, over her

head, and had draped it round her shapely neck. It gave her an

infinitely charming appearance; indeed, in my eyes, she appeared the

most beautiful of all God’s creatures—a being to be loved and

longed for beyond all her sex.

 

“And so tomorrow, after all our adventures, we shall be in Cape

Town,” she said. “Have you thought of the promise you gave me a

fortnight ago?”

 

“What promise was that?” I asked, though I knew full well to what

she alluded.

 

“To let papa find you some employment. I do hope you will

allow him to do so.”

 

I looked at her as she stood beside me, one little hand resting on

the rail and her beautiful eyes gazing across the starlit sea, and

thought how hard it was to resist her. But at any cost I could not

remain in Cape Town. Every hour I spent there would bring me into

greater danger.

 

“I have been thinking it over as I promised,” I said, “and

I have come to the conclusion that