*CHAPTER XI*
*THE SAME EVENING*
Reluctantly Mary Gilchrist had joined the house party at the "House bythe Blue Lagoon".
After her arrival in New York for the first time in her life she hadbeen ill, nothing serious at first, merely a languor and depressionwhich she could not shake off, and then a fever which persisted for sometime in spite of every care and devotion.
Never a day passed that she did not say either aloud or to herself thatshe would have felt scant interest in her own recovery had she not beenliving with the Camp Fire girls.
After her father's death she was almost entirely alone, with norelatives save distant cousins and separated from the friends of heryouth by the years in France. Always she and her father had led afairly isolated existence on their big thousand-acre wheat farm. Herown love of the outdoors, of boyish amusements and of the work of theestate, together with her father's companionship, had been sufficient.
Shut up in the small New York apartment, ill and grieving,notwithstanding, the affection and attention lavished upon her, forseveral months Gill had found life difficult.
With the arrival of the cold New York spring she approached a betterframe of mind, but still was without desire to join in any gaiety.
Her one expressed wish was to be allowed to remain alone in theapartment while the other girls went for the visit to the "House by theBlue Lagoon".
This they positively refused to consider.
As she had been Sally's especial charge, Sally announced that she didnot believe Gill sufficiently strong to make the journey or to be in thesociety of so many persons, so she had concluded to stay on in New Yorkwith her. Sally was not easily dissuaded from a decision, so partly toavoid this sacrifice, partly because she did not wish to be separatedfrom her friends and was interested in Bettina Graham's home, Gillfinally agreed to accompany them.
The stipulation was that she was to be allowed to be alone as much asshe liked and to take no part in any of the entertainments, unless shefelt the inclination. No one would try to persuade her to do anythingagainst her wish.
On this evening of the dance, Gill had been undecided whether or not toleave her own room. At length the desire to see the beautiful old houselighted and filled with spring flowers and the girls in their partydresses brought her down to the drawing room. Here she was introducedto a number of the guests and enjoyed talking to them, but positivelyrefused to dance. And no one insisted beyond the ordinary demands ofcourtesy, as her black dress offered a sufficient explanation.
Gill was not in deep mourning; her dress was of sheer black muslin, cutlow in the neck, with a narrow edging of black net.
She no longer wore her hair bobbed in the old, half boyish fashion, butdressed as simply as possible in a knot at the back of her head.
The small claim she possessed to good looks, Gill believed had vanishedaltogether and for all times. Her color was gone and her animation andshe had depended upon both.
Yet to Allan Drain, who found himself glancing toward her with interestseveral times during the evening, she possessed an attraction he had notbeen aware of in their acquaintance at Half Moon Lake. There was asofter and gentler atmosphere about her. Her pallor, in contrast withthe red-brown hair and eyes, had its own beauty.
Toward the latter part of the evening, observing that Gill was so whitethat she appeared ill, Allan crossed the room to the chair where she wassitting alone at the moment.
"Won't you come out of doors with me for a little while, Miss Gilchrist.I believe you will like it better than indoors and I know I shall."
Then, as Gill hesitated.
"Please come, I have not had an opportunity to talk to you alone sinceour arrival. I want to tell you that I think I was a good deal of a boorin refusing to say I forgave you last winter when you confessed that byaccident you had burned up the manuscripts of my poems. After Ireturned home I discovered copies of a number of them stored away in oddplaces. I am obliged to confess they seemed so utterly no account thatyou did me a favor by destroying them before they could be read by anyone."
Gill shook her head.
"You are kind, but I don't in the least believe you. I told you thenand I still feel that I would rather you would not forgive me. I haveno idea of forgiving myself."
"Is it too far, shall we walk down to the lagoon? I have not seen it atnight."
Allan picked up a white shawl which some one had left on the veranda.
"No, it is not far, but it is probably cold down there, so put thisaround you. Isn't this place a marvel? Any one who could not writepoetry here, or at least dream it, could nowhere on earth. Do you knowthe story of the house and the island and the blue lagoon? I have mademyself a nuisance trying to find out."
"No, not as much as I should like to hear," Gill answered, placing theshawl about her shoulders in an obedient fashion.
"Originally the island was given by a special grant from the Britishking to an Irishman named Bryan O'Bannon, who had fought gallantly inhis service during one of the innumerable wars. He appears to have beenunlike most Irishmen and a man of wealth, or else he married wealth,because his wife was one of the sisters of the great Lord Fairfax ofVirginia.
"They built this place and lived here like royalty, with hundreds ofcolored servants I suppose. There is no special story of a tragedyuntil the civil war. Then one day a boatload of northern soldierslanded on the island and took possession. None of the men of the familywere at home. It chanced, however, that a young Confederate officer wason leave of absence visiting the girl to whom he was engaged. When thenortherners surrounded the house, she hid him in one of the secretpassages. The story goes that she was insulted by one of the enemy anddrowned herself in the blue lagoon. The young officer, waiting herreturn and not knowing how to escape, starved to death."
Gill shivered.
"Good gracious, what a tale on a night like this! No matter howbeautiful a place is, nor how shut off from the world, it seems neverable to escape sorrow."
Allan Drain looked more closely at his companion, whose expression wasscarcely discernible in the flickering lights made by the Chineselanterns, swinging like censers between the trees that led to the bluelagoon. The winter before she would not have been capable of a speechlike this!
"I am sorry, perhaps I should not have told you so unhappy a story. Ishould have remembered that you have been ill and in trouble. I havenot had an opportunity before to express my sympathy. I have beenthrough such a lot of bad health myself, at least I appreciate what _it_means."
"You are all right now, or a great deal stronger? Certainly you lookso. You are kind to be so good to me. I was so stupid and disagreeablewhen you were ill and lonely during the winter in the Adirondacks. Iseem to be one of the persons who has to learn through experience.Until recently I have always been so well and I am afraid spoiled. Ihope I shall never be so impossible again. Tell me do you feel moreinterested in your medical studies, or is writing still your oneambition?"
"I am ashamed to say that it is, ashamed because I seem to have solittle talent to justify all the time and thought I give to it, when Ishould be hard at work trying to learn my profession. I often fear I amone of the people who shall fall between the two, a failure in both. Idid not intend to be so dismal, but I have had a pretty severedisappointment of late."
"I am sorry, would you rather tell me of it, or not?"
By this time they had reached the edge of the lagoon and stood lookingdown at the water, so deep a blue it was nearly black under the nightsky with the stars reflected in its surface.
There were few waves and only a light breeze; a small row-boat tied to astake lapped gently to and fro.
"Would you like to go for a row? I am not a skillful oarsman, but I canmanage. We need not be out long."
Gill hesitated.
"I would like it very much, but we must be sure to return before thedance is over. I won't be able t
o help with the rowing, I have neverattempted it in my life. You know I am an inland person and never havespent any time near the sea until now. I never saw the ocean until wecrossed to France."
With the boat untied, Allan helped his companion in and Gill sat downfacing him.
Neither of them spoke until they were a few yards from the shore andmoving toward the opening into the bay.
"Yes, I would like to tell you of my disappointment. I have not wishedto speak of it to any one else, why you will understand when I explainthe circumstances.
"Last winter in New York Mrs. Graham suggested that, when I came to makeher a visit in the spring at the 'House by the Blue Lagoon', I mightbring with me the manuscript of the play, which I have been at work uponfor a year and that she would persuade Mrs. Burton to allow me to readit to her. Of course with this possibility I have worked doubly harduntil there have been moments, not many I confess, when my play has notseemed altogether bad. I have had Mrs. Burton in mind as I wrote; Icould not help this, she is the only great actress I have ever knownpersonally and in some ways the greatest I have ever seen act. I don'tbelieve I have been mad enough to dream that she would like my play wellenough to appear in it, but I hoped that she might say a few words ofencouragement, perhaps give me a letter of introduction to a manager whowould read my play if she made the request."
"Well, what has happened?" Gill demanded, leaning forward with her lipsslightly parted, her eyes large and interested fixed upon hercompanion's face.
"Only that Mrs. Burton declines to be annoyed. Mrs. Graham did notoffer exactly this explanation, but what she said amounted to the samething. Please don't think I am blaming Mrs. Burton, I understand herposition. She sent word to me that she was very tired after a winter ofhard work and that for the present wished to forget the stagealtogether. She begged me to appreciate that she was not a producer ofplays and that her opinion of what I have written would be of smallvalue. In case she did not like my work she might disappoint me, when amanager might be delighted with what I have accomplished."
"Yes, that is true," Gill returned, "so why feel especiallydisappointed? I am sure Mrs. Burton will give you a letter to amanager, even if she prefers not to read your play."
With the peculiar despondency which is an attribute of the artistictemperament, Allan Drain shook his head.
"No, if Mrs. Burton is not interested, I do not care to interest any oneelse. With every line I have written I have thought and dreamed of heras my heroine. I don't want any one else to play it, at least this isthe way I feel at present."
In several moments Gill did not speak, while Allan Drain pulled hard athis oars, wishing to conquer his discouragement through strenuousphysical exercise.
He was surprised when his boat so soon shot out of the lagoon into thebroader waters of the bay. The waves were not high and he rowed quietlyand steadfastly, keeping close, as he believed to the shores of thesmall island.
Still Gill dreamed on, feeling wonderfully peaceful and happier than inmany months. She never had forgiven herself for her carelessness inthrowing the manuscript of Allan Drain's verses into the fire in theirwinter cabin at Half Moon Lake. Now it was a consolation to discoverthat Allan Drain really had forgiven her; there was no pretence in hiswords and friendliness to-night. If only she had possessed sufficientinfluence with their Camp Fire guardian to persuade her to do what he sogreatly wished! After all it was not so tremendous a favor, in Gill'sestimation. However, if Mrs. Burton had refused the request made by herhostess and most dearly loved friend, no one else would avail.
"I am so sorry, I do wish I could be of service," Gill murmured,speaking as much to herself as to her companion. "Don't you thinkperhaps we had better start home? I don't wish to, I did not realizethat I was so tired watching the dancing and being in the midst of somany people until you brought me out into this beauty and quiet."
"Yes, well I'll go on only a few moments longer and then turn around.Once we are inside the lagoon we can reach our landing in a quarter ofan hour."
When he spoke Allan was not aware that the wind was growing stronger andthat the tide was turning and running out toward the sea. Neither didhe realize the length of time he and Gill had been on the water, nor thedistance they had gone, so swiftly and smoothly his oars worked, as thebeat moved in unison with the tide.
Ten minutes after their brief conversation, in attempting to swingaround, Allan discovered that he had a task ahead of him. To hissurprise and consternation he also found that already he was fatigued.He had been out on the water only once since his arrival at the islandand then in company with David Hale who was an excellent oarsman. Ithad not occurred to him that as he had rowed only two or three times inseveral years he was not in training.
Fortunately his companion was not aware of his difficulty and wasremaining blessedly silent, so that he could give his entire attentionto his rowing.
Allan strained and pulled, realizing that the wind was blowing him outof his course.
A half hour he kept on without faltering, always with the intention ofreaching the shores of the island and skirting it until he coulddiscover the lagoon. And always his companion continued silent.
When he had time to think, Allan concluded that she had fallen asleepand was grateful.
If he could not get in to shore he was managing not be driven far out ofthe course.
At midnight the small steamboat would call at the island to take theguests back to the mainland, who were not to spend the night, and withluck he might be able to signal them.
"Don't you think you had better rest for a few moments, Mr. Drain?" Aquiet voice suggested. "Please don't be worried, I am not uneasy. Atthe worst, if we cannot reach the lagoon and no boat comes to ourrescue, we shall only drift about until the tide turns. When daylightarrives we shall have no difficulty. I hate your wearing yourself outand wish I could help."
Gill laughed, a more courageous, gayer laugh than he had heard from hersince their earlier acquaintance.
"Why, you did not think I was asleep? I am not so stupid as all that! Idid not wish to trouble you by talking."
Compelled to follow Gill's advice, resting his oars, Allan allowed theirboat to move with the tide. Another half hour went by; at length bothof them appreciated that it must be well past midnight and there waslittle chance of rescue by their friends. The small steamboat crosseddirectly from the island to the mainland and made no circuit of the bay.
Without comment Allan picked up his oars again.
"I think I can manage to reach the island, even if we do not discoverthe lagoon before dawn. I have walked around the island several timesand there are a number of places where one can land. We will be morecomfortable than in this cramped little boat and warmer. Besides we arein some danger with the waves growing higher and stronger and the nightdarker. I am not going to attempt to disguise the fact from you, youare as courageous as I am, in truth you are more courageous as Iremember you. If you wish to have the score settled with me in regardto the accidental burning of my manuscript, I have accomplished it witha vengeance to-night by bringing you out on the water and getting youinto this difficulty. I only hope you may not be ill again as a resultof my stupidity. But I must not talk, I have no breath to spare. Oncewe are safe and ashore I'll offer my apology."
"Don't worry about me. If it were not that the others may be troubled,and I trust Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Burton went to their rooms beforeanyone missed us, and if you were not wearing yourself out, do you knowI could enjoy this experience. I am not in the slightest degreefrightened, I suppose I am a kind of an adventurer."
A quarter of an hour after, Allan and Gill beheld a darker line of landand rowing closer their boat grounded in the sand amid shallow water.
"I'll carry you ashore, it will be simpler than trying to get in by anyother method. Then I'll wade out and drag the boat after us."
"I can wade, please don't, I am far too heavy," Gill protested,remembering the character of illness from
which Allan Drain had sufferedat the time of their first meeting.
As he lifted her from her place and her arms closed about his throat,there was no sign of weakness in her companion.
Five minutes later she was seated on the dry sand, able to see the tallfigure struggling in the darkness and drawing the heavy boat ashore.
"You should have allowed me to help, it was not fair," Gill arguedalmost angrily, as, panting for breath, he dropped down at her side withthe boat only a few feet away.