In a Steamer Chair and Other Stories, Robert Barr [small books to read .TXT] 📗

out of my half of the day."

"Very well, I am rather interested in another story, and if you will take 'The Siege of London,' and read it, you'll find how much better the book is than my telling of the story."

George Morris had, of course, to content himself with this proposition, and they walked together to the steamer chairs, over which the gaily coloured rugs were spread.

"Shall I get your book for you?" asked the young man, as he picked up the rugs.

"Thank you," answered Miss Earle, with a laugh, "you have already done so," for, as he shook out the rugs, the two books, which were small handy volumes, fell out on the deck.

"I see you won't accept my hint about not leaving the books around. You will lose some precious volume one of these days."

"Oh, I fold them in the rugs, and they are all right. Now, here is your volume. Sit down there and read it."

"That means also, 'and keep quiet,' I suppose?"

"I don't imagine you are versatile enough to read and talk at the same time. Are you?"

"I should be very tempted to try it this afternoon."

Miss Earle went on with her reading, and Morris pretended to go on with his. He soon found, however, that he could not concentrate his attention on the little volume in his hand, and so quickly abandoned the attempt, and spent his time in meditation and in casting furtive glances at his fair companion over the top of his book. He thought the steamer chair a perfectly delightful invention. It was an easy, comfortable, and adjustable apparatus, that allowed a person to sit up or to recline at almost any angle. He pushed his chair back a little, so that be could watch the profile of Miss Katherine Earle, and the dark tresses that formed a frame for it, without risking the chance of having his espionage discovered.

"Aren't you comfortable?" asked the young lady, as he shoved back his chair.

"I am very, very comfortable," replied the young man.

"I am glad of that," she said, as she resumed her reading.

George Morris watched her turn leaf after leaf as he reclined lazily in his chair, with half-closed eyes, and said to himself, "Shop-girl or not, past or not, I'm going to propose to that young lady the first good opportunity I get. I wonder what she will say?"

"How do you like it?" cried the young lady he was thinking of, with a suddenness that made Morris jump in his chair.

"Like it?" he cried; "oh, I like it immensely."

"How far have you got?" she continued.

"How far? Oh, a great distance. Very much further than I would have thought it possible when I began this voyage."

Miss Earle turned and looked at him with wide-open eyes, as he made this strange reply.

"What are you speaking of?" she said.

"Oh, of everything--of the book, of the voyage, of the day."

"I was speaking of the book," she replied quietly. "Are you sure you have not fallen asleep and been dreaming?"

"Fallen asleep? No. Dreaming? Yes."

"Well, I hope your dreams have been pleasant ones."

"They have."

Miss Earle, who seemed to think it best not to follow her investigations any further, turned once more to her own book, and read it until it was time to dress for dinner. When that important meal was over, Morris said to Miss Earle: "Do you know you still owe me part of the day?"

"I thought you said you had a very pleasant afternoon."

"So I had. So pleasant, you see, that I want to have the pleasure prolonged. I want you to come out and have a walk on the deck now in the starlight. It is a lovely night, and, besides, you are now halfway across the ocean, and yet I don't think you have been out once to see the phosphorescence. That is one of the standard sights of an ocean voyage. Will you come?"

Although the words were commonplace enough, there was a tremor in his voice which gave a meaning to them that could not be misunderstood. Miss Earle looked at him with serene composure, and yet with a touch of reproachfulness in her glance. "He talks like this to me," she said to herself, "while he is engaged to another woman."

"Yes," she answered aloud, with more firmness in her voice than might have seemed necessary, "I will be happy to walk on the deck with you to see the phosphorescence."

He helped to hinder her for a moment in adjusting her wraps, and they went out in the starlit night together.

"Now," he said, "if we are fortunate enough to find the place behind the after-wheel house vacant we can have a splendid view of the phosphorescence."

"Is it so much in demand that the place is generally crowded?" she asked.

"I may tell you in confidence," replied Mr. Morris, "that this particular portion of the boat is always very popular. Soon as the evening shades prevail the place is apt to be preempted by couples that are very fond of----"

"Phosphorescence," interjected the young lady.

"Yes," he said, with a smile that she could not see in the darkness, "of phosphorescence."

"I should think," said she, as they walked towards the stern of the boat, "that in scientific researches of that sort, the more people who were there, the more interesting the discussion would be, and the more chance a person would have to improve his mind on the subject of phosphorescence, or other matters pertaining to the sea."

"Yes," replied Morris. "A person naturally would think that, and yet, strange as it may appear, if there ever was a time when two is company and three is a crowd, it is when looking at the phosphorescence that follows the wake of an ocean steamer."

"Really?" observed the young lady, archly. "I remember you told me that you had crossed the ocean several times."

The young man laughed joyously at this _repartee_, and his companion joined him with a laugh that was low and musical.

"He seems very sure of his ground," she said to herself. "Well, we shall see."

As they came to the end of the boat and passed behind the temporary wheel-house erected there, filled with _debris_ of various sorts, blocks and tackle and old steamer chairs, Morris noticed that two others were there before them standing close together with arms upon the bulwarks. They were standing very close together, so close in fact, that in the darkness, it seemed like one person. But as Morris stumbled over some chains, the dark, united shadow dissolved itself quickly into two distinct separate shadows. A flagpole stood at the extreme end of the ship, inclining backwards from the centre of the bulwarks, and leaning over the troubled, luminous sea beneath. The two who had taken their position first were on one side of the flag-pole and Morris and Miss Earle on the other. Their coming had evidently broken the spell for the others. After waiting for a few moments, the lady took the arm of the gentleman and walked forward. "Now," said Morris, with a sigh, "we have the phosphorescence to ourselves."

"It is very, very strange," remarked the lady in a low voice. "It seems as if a person could see weird shapes arising in the air, as if in torment."

The young man said nothing for a few moments. He cleared his throat several times as if to speak, but still remained silent. Miss Earle gazed down at the restless, luminous water. The throb, throb of the great ship made the bulwarks on which their arms rested tremble and quiver.

Finally Morris seemed to muster up courage enough to begin, and he said one word--

"Katherine." As he said this he placed his hand on hers as it lay white before him in the darkness upon the trembling bulwark. It seemed to him that she made a motion to withdraw her hand, and then allowed it to remain where it was.

"Katherine," he continued, in a voice that he hardly recognised as his own, "we have known each other only a very short time comparatively; but, as I think I said to you once before, a day on shipboard may be as long as a month on shore. Katherine, I want to ask you a question, and yet I do not know--I cannot find--I--I don't know what words to use."

The young lady turned her face towards him, and he saw her clear-cut profile sharply outlined against the glowing water as he looked down at her. Although the young man struggled against the emotion, which is usually experienced by any man in his position, yet he felt reasonably sure of the answer to his question. She had come with him out into the night. She had allowed her hand to remain in his. He was, therefore, stricken dumb with amazement when she replied, in a soft and musical voice--

"You do not know what to say? What do you _usually_ say on such an occasion?"

"Usually say?" he gasped in dismay. "I do not understand you. What do you mean?"

"Isn't my meaning plain enough? Am I the first young lady to whom you have not known exactly what to say?"

Mr. Morris straightened up, and folded his arms across his breast; then, ridiculously enough, this struck him as a heroic attitude, and altogether unsuitable for an American, so he thrust his hands deep in his coat pockets.

"Miss Earle," he said, "I knew that you could be cruel, but I did not think it possible that you could be so cruel as this."

"Is the cruelty all on my side, Mr. Morris?" she answered. "Have you been perfectly honest and frank with me? You know you have not. Now, I shall be perfectly honest and frank with you. I like you very much indeed. I have not the slightest hesitation in saying this, because it is true, and I don't care whether you know it, or whether anybody else knows it or not."

As she said this the hope which Morris had felt at first, and which had been dashed so rudely to the ground, now returned, and he attempted to put his arm about her and draw her to him; but the young lady quickly eluded his grasp, stepping to the other side of the flag-pole, and putting her hand upon it.

"Mr. Morris," she said, "there is no use of your saying anything further. There is a barrier between us; you know it as well as I. I would like us to be friends as usual; but, if we are to be, you will have to remember the barrier, and keep to your own side of it."

"I know of no barrier," cried Morris, vehemently, attempting to come over to her side.

"There is the barrier," she said, placing her hand on the flag-pole. "My place is on this side of that barrier; your place is on the other. If you come on this side of that flag-pole, I shall leave you. If you remain on your own side, I shall be very glad to talk with you."

Morris sullenly took his place on the other side of the flag-pole. "Has there been anything in my actions," said the young lady, "during the time we have been acquainted that would lead you to expect a different answer?"

"Yes. You have treated me outrageously at times,