CHAPTER VIII
THE BEAUTIFUL STRANGER
They were now well along in the Mediterranean. The air was cool andcrisp, yet there were dozens of people on deck watching the sunset andthe sailors who were trimming the ship. There were passengers on boardfor China, Japan, India and Australia. A half hundred soldiers,returning to the East, after a long furlough at home, made the shiplively. They were under loose discipline and were inclined to behilarious. A number were forward now, singing the battle songs of theBritish and the weird ones of the natives. Quite a crowd had collectedto listen, including Ridgeway and Veath, who were strolling along thedeck, arm in arm, enjoying an after-dinner smoke, and had paused intheir walk near the group, enjoying the robust, devil-may-care tones ofthe gallant subalterns.
Miss Vernon was in her stateroom trying to jot down in a newly openeddiary the events of the past ten days. She was up to ears in the work,and was almost overcome by its enthusiasm. It was to be a surprise forHugh at some distant day, when she could have it printed and bound forhim alone. There was to be but one copy printed, positively, and it wasto belong to Hugh. Her lover as he strode the deck was unconscious ofthe task unto which she had bent her energy. He knew nothing of theunheard-of intricacies in punctuation, spelling and phraseology. She wasforced at one time to write Med and a dash, declaring, in chagrin, thatshe would add the remainder of the word when she could get to a placewhere a dictionary might tell her whether it was spelled Mediterraneanor Mediteranian.
Suddenly, Hugh pressed Veath's arm a little closer.
"Look over there near the rail. There's the prettiest girl I've everseen!"
"Where?"
"Can't point, because she's looking this way. Girl with a dark greencoat, leaning on an old gentleman's arm--"
"I see," interrupted Veath. "By George! she's pretty!"
"No name for it! Have you in your life ever seen anything so beautiful?"cried Ridgeway. He stared at her so intently that she averted her face."Wonder who she can be? The old man must be her father. Strange wehaven't seen them before. I'm sure that she hasn't been on deck."
"You seem interested--do you want a flirtation?"
"Oh, Grace wouldn't stand for that--not for a minute."
"I don't believe she would object if you carried it on skilfully,"smiled the other.
"It wouldn't be right, no matter how harmless. I couldn't think ofbeing so confoundedly brutal."
"Sisters don't usually take such things to heart."
Hugh came to himself with a start and for a moment or two could find noword of response, so deeply engrossed was he in the effort to rememberwhether he had said anything that might have betrayed his secret.
"Oh," he laughed awkwardly, "you don't understand me. Grace is so--well,so--conscientious, that if she thought I was--er--trifling, you know,with a girl, she'd--she'd have a fit. Funniest girl you ever saw aboutthose things--perfect paragon."
"Is it possible? Are you not a little strong on that point, old man? I'mafraid you don't know your sister any better than other menknow theirs."
"What's that?" demanded Hugh, suddenly alert and forgetful of thestranger.
"The last person on earth that a man gets acquainted with, I've heard,is his sister," said Veath calmly. "Go ahead and have a good time, oldfellow; your sister isn't so exacting as you think--take my wordfor it."
It was fully five minutes before Hugh could extract himself from theslough of speculation into which those thoughtless words had driven him.What did Veath know about her ideas on such matters? Where did he learnso much? The other spoke to him twice and received no answer. Finally heshook his arm and said:
"Must be love at first sight, Ridge. Are you spellbound?" Hugh merelyglared at him and he continued imperturbably: "She's pretty beyond adoubt. I'll have to find out who she is."
"That's right, Veath; find out," cried Hugh, bright in an instant. "Makeher have a good time. Poor thing, she'll find it pretty dull if shehangs to her father all the time."
"He isn't a very amusing-looking old chap, is he? If that man hasn't thegout and half a dozen other troubles I'll jump overboard."
The couple arousing the interest of the young men stood near the forwardend of the deck-house. The young woman's face was beaming with aninspiration awakened by the singers. Her companion, tall, gray andunimpressionable, listened as if through coercion and not for pleasure.His lean face, red with apoplectic hues, grim with the wrinkles of threescore years or more, showed clear signs of annoyance. The thin graymoustache was impatiently gnawed, first on one side and then on theother. Then the military streak of gray that bristled forth as animperial was pushed upward and between the lips by bony fingers. He wasa picture of dutiful rebellion, Immaculately dressed was he, anddistinguished from the soles of his pointed shoes to the beak of hisnatty cap. A light colored newmarket of the most fashionable cut wasbuttoned closely about his thin figure.
The young woman was not tall, nor was she short; she was of thatindefinite height known as medium. Her long green coat fitted hersnugly and perfectly; a cap of the same material was perched jauntilyupon her dark hair. The frolicking wind had torn several strands frombeneath the cap, and despite the efforts of her gloved fingers, theywhipped and fluttered in tantalizing confusion. In the dimming afternoonthe Americans could see that she was exquisitely beautiful. They couldsee the big dark eyes, almost timid in the hiding places beyond theheavy fringing lashes. Her dark hair threw the rich face into clearrelief,--fresh, bright, eager. The men were not close enough to observewith minuteness its features, but its brilliancy was sufficient toexcite even marvelling admiration. It was one of those faces at whichone could look for ever and still feel there was a charm about it he hadnot caught.
"I've never seen such a face before," again murmured Ridgeway.
"Tastes differ," said Veath. "Now, if you'll pardon me, I think MissRidge is the more beautiful. She is taller and has better style.Besides, I like fair women. What say?" The question was prompted by themuttered oath that came from Hugh.
"Nothing at all," he almost snarled. "Say, Veath, don't always betalking to me about my sister," he finally jerked out, barely able toconfine himself to this moderately sensible abjuration while his brainwas seething with other and stronger expressions.
"I beg your pardon, Ridge; I did not know that I talked very much abouther." There was a brief silence and then he continued: "Have a freshcigar, old man." Hugh took the cigar ungraciously, ashamed of hispetulance.
By this time the early shades of night had begun to settle and thefigures along the deck were growing faint in the shadows. Here and theresailors began to light the deck lamps; many of the passengers went belowto avoid the coming chill. In her stateroom Grace was just writing: "Forover a week we have been sailing under British colors, we goodAmericans, Hugh and I,--and I may add, Mr. Veath."
Another turn down the promenade and back brought Ridgeway and Veath faceto face with the old gentleman and the young lady, who were on the pointof starting below. The Americans paused to let them pass, lifting theircaps. The old gentleman, now eager and apparently more interested inlife and its accompaniments, touched the vizor of his cap in response,and the young lady smiled faintly as she drew her skirts aside andpassed before him.
"Did you ever see a smile like that?" cried Hugh, as the coupledisappeared from view.
"Thousands," answered his companion. "They're common as womenthemselves. Any woman has a pretty smile when she wants it."
"You haven't a grain of sentiment, confound you."
"They don't teach sentiment on the farm, and there's where I began thisunappreciative existence of mine. But I am able to think a lotsometimes."
"That's about all a fellow has to do on a farm, isn't it?"
"That and die, I believe."
"And get married?"
"Naturally, in order to think more. A man has to think for two afterhe's married, you see."
"Quite sarcastic that. You don't think much of women, I fancy."
; "Not in the plural."
Captain Shadburn was nearing them on the way from the chart-house, andthe young men accosted him, Veath inquiring:
"Captain, who is the tall old gentleman you were talking to forwardawhile ago?"
"That is Lord Huntingford, going over to straighten out somecomplications for the Crown. He is a diplomat of the first water."
"Where are these complications, may I ask?"
"Oh, in China, I think. He is hurrying across as fast as possible. Heleaves the ship at Hong Kong, and nobody knows just what his mission is;that's between him and the prime minister, of course. But, good-evening,gentlemen. I have a game of cribbage after dinner with his Lordship."The captain hurried below.
"A real live lord," said Veath. "The first I've seen."
"China," Hugh repeated. "I hope we may get to know them."