The Marriage of Esther. Boothby Guy
I said just now, I'm afraid I don't appear to very great advantage in your eyes," he remarked.
"I'm not exactly sure that you do," she answered candidly. "But I'll see if I can't let by-gones be by-gones. Remember, however, if I do take you on you must both show me that my trust is not misplaced."
"For myself I will promise that."
"It may surprise you to hear that I am not so much afraid of your mate as of yourself. I have seen his face, and I think I like it."
"I'm certain you're right. I am a weak man; he is not. If either of us fails you, I don't think it will be Murkard."
"I like you better for sticking up for your friend."
"I am sorry for that, because you may think I do it for effect."
"I'll be better able to tell you about that later on. Now go."
He raised his hat and crossed from the veranda to the hut. Murkard was awake and was sitting up on the bed.
"Thank Heaven you've come back, old man. Where the deuce am I, and how did I get here? My memory's gone all to pieces, and, from the parched condition of my tongue, my interior must be following it. Have I been ill, or what?"
"You've been jolly near drowned, if that's any consolation to you. We were swimming the strait, don't you remember, when you suddenly collapsed. You gave me an awful fright."
"Then you saved my life?"
"I suppose folk would call it by that name."
"All right. That's another nick in the score. I'm obliged to you. You have a big reckoning against me for benefits conferred. Be sure, however, I'll not forget it if ever the opportunity occurs. And now what does this pile of goodly raiment mean? By Jove! methinks I smell food, and it makes me ravenous."
The door opened and Rhotoma Jimmy appeared with a tray.
"Young missis send this longa you."
"All right, old man, put it down over there. I believe I'm famished enough to eat both the victuals and the tray."
"Go ahead, and while you're eating I'll talk. In the first place, your scheme has succeeded admirably. I have spoken to the girl, interested her in us, and I think she'll take us on."
"Good! You're a diplomatist after my own heart."
"But, old man, there must be no hanky-panky over this. If we get the billets we must play fair by her – we must justify her confidence."
"As bad as all that, and in this short time, eh? Well, I suppose it's all right. Yes, we'll play fair."
"Don't run away with any nonsense of that sort. The girl is a decent little thing, but nothing more. She has been very good to us, and I'd rather clear out at once than let any harm come to her from either of us – do you understand?"
"Perfectly." He finished his meal in silence, and then threw himself down upon the bed. "Now let me get to sleep again. I'm utterly played out. Drunk last night and nearly drowned to-day is a pretty fair record, in all conscience."
Ellison left the hut, and that he might not meet his benefactress again so soon, went for a stroll along the beach. The tide was out and the sand was firm walking. He had his own thoughts for company, and they were in the main pleasant ones. He had landed on his feet once more, just when he deemed he had reached the end of his tether. Whatever else it might be, this would probably be his last bid for respectability; it behooved him, therefore, to make the most of it. He seated himself on a rock just above high-water mark and proceeded to think it out.
Murkard slept for another hour, and then set to work to dress himself. Like Ellison, he found the change of raiment very acceptable. When he was ready he looked at himself in the glass with a new interest, which passed off his face in a sneer as his eyes fell upon the reflection of his ungainly, inartistic back.
"Certainly there's devilish little to recommend me in that," he said meditatively. "And yet there was a time when my society was sought after. I wonder what the end of it all will be?"
He borrowed a pair of scissors from the Kanaka cook, and with them trimmed his beard to a point. Then, selecting a blue silk scarf from among the things sent him, he tied it in a neat bow under his white collar, donned his coat, which accentuated rather than, diminished the angularity of his hump, and went out into the world. Esther McCartney was sitting in the veranda sewing. She looked up on hearing his step and motioned him towards her. He glanced at her with considerable curiosity, and he noticed that under his gaze she drooped her eyes. Her hands were not as white as certain hands he had aforetime seen, but they were well shaped – and one of the nails upon the left hand had a tiny white spot upon it that attracted his attention.
"You had a narrow escape this morning. Your friend only just got you ashore in time."
"So I believe. I am also in your debt for kindnesses received – this change of raiment, and possibly my life. It is a faculty of mine to be always in debt to somebody. I may probably repay you when I can; in the meantime it will be better for us both if I endeavour to forget all about it."
"Isn't that rather a strange way of talking?"
"Very possibly. But you see I am a strange man. Nature has ordained that I should not be like other men. I don't know altogether whether I'm the worse for it. I'm a little weak after my trouble this morning; have you any objection to my sitting down?"
"Take that seat, you'll find it more comfortable."
She pointed to a loose canvas-backed chair near the steps. He smiled as he had done in the hut when he had looked at his image in the glass. The other chairs were hard-backed, and it proved that she had been thinking of his deformity when she chose this one. He seated himself and placed his hat on the floor beside him. She took in at a glance his pale, sensitive face, curious eyes, and long white fingers, and as she looked she came to a conclusion.
"Your friend, Mr. Ellison, wants me to give you employment. Until a minute ago I had not made up my mind. Now I think I shall do so."
"I knew you would."
"How did you know it?"
"By the way you dropped your hand on the back of that chair just now. Well, I'm very glad. It is good of you. You know nothing about us, however, remember that. Don't trust us too far until you are more certain of our honesty. Sir Walter Raleigh, I would have you not forget, says, 'No man is wise or safe but he that is honest.' It is for you to find our honesty out."
"You talk as if you were taking me into your employ, instead of its being the other way about."
"So you noticed it? I was just thinking the same thing myself. It's a habit of mine. Forgive it."
"Somehow I think I shall like you. You talk in a way I'm not quite used to, but I fancy we shall hit it off together."
"I make no promises. I have some big faults, but I'll do my best to amend them. You have heard of one of them."
"I have, but how did you know?"
"By your eyes and the way your lips curled when I used the word 'faults.' Yes, unhappily I am a drunkard. I need make no secret of it. I have fought against it, how hard you would never guess; but it beats me every time. It killed my first life, and I'm not quite sure it won't kill my second."
"Your first life! What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I say. I am a creature of two lives. You don't surely suppose I was always the beach-comber you see before you now?"
"I did not think about it."
"Forgive me! That is not quite true. It was one of the first thoughts in your mind when you saw me come out of the hut yonder."
"How is it you can read my thoughts like this?"
"Practice in the study of faces, that's all. Another bad habit."
"But if I take you on you will give up the liquor, won't you? It seems such a pity that a man should throw himself away like that when there's so much in the world worth living for."
"That's, of course, if there is. Suppose, for the sake of argument, there is nothing? Suppose that a man