FullReads

Merefleet was the very last man to make observations of such a description. But this was a matter so obvious and so undeniably strange that it forced itself upon him half against his will. He became strongly aware that Seton did not desire his presence in the boat with him and his cousin. He did not fathom the objection. But its existence was not to be ignored. And Merefleet wondered a little, as he cast about in his mind for a suitable excuse wherewith to decline the girl’s invitation.

“It’s very good of you to ask me to accompany you, Miss Ward,” he said presently. “But I know that Quiller the younger is under the impression that I have engaged him to row me out of the harbour and bring me back again. And I don’t see very well how I can cancel the engagement.”

Miss Ward nudged her cousin at this speech.

“Oh, if he isn’t just quaint!” she said. “Look here, Bert! You’re running this show. Tell Mr. Merefleet it’s all fixed up, and if he won’t come along with us he won’t go at all, as we’ve got Quiller’s boat!”

Seton glanced up, slightly frowning.

“My dear Mab,” he said, “allow Mr. Merefleet to please himself! The fact that you are willing to put your life in my hands day after day is no guarantee of my skill as a rower, remember.”

“Oh, skittles!” said Mab irrelevantly.

And Seton, meeting Merefleet’s eyes, shrugged his shoulders as if disclaiming all further responsibility.

Mab leant forward.

“You’d better come, Mr. Merefleet,” she said in a motherly tone. “It’ll be a degree more lively than mooning around by yourself.”

And Merefleet yielded, touched by something indescribable in the beautiful, glowing eyes that were lifted to his. Apparently she wanted him to go, and it seemed to him too small a thing to refuse. Perhaps, also, he consulted his own inclination.

Seton dropped his distant manner after a time. Nevertheless the impression of being under the young man’s close observation lingered with Merefleet, and Mab herself seemed to feel a strain. She grew almost silent till lunch was over, and then, recovering, she entered into a sprightly conversation with Merefleet.

They went down to the shore shortly after, and embarked in Quiller’s boat. Mab sat in the stern under a scarlet sunshade and talked gaily to her two companions. She was greatly amused when Merefleet insisted upon doing his share of the work.

“I love to see you doing the galley-slave,” she said. “I know you hate it, you poor old Bear.”

But Merefleet did not hate his work. He sat facing her throughout the afternoon, gazing to his heart’s content on the perfect picture before him. He wore his hands to blisters, and the sun beat mercilessly down upon him. But he felt neither weariness nor impatience, neither regret nor surliness.

A magic touch had started the life in his veins; the revelation of a wandering searchlight had transformed his sordid world into a palace of delight. He accepted the fact without question. He had no wish to go either forward or backward.

The blue sea and the blue sky, and the distant, shining shore. These were what he had often longed for in the rush and tumult of a great, unresting city. But in the foreground of his picture, beyond desire and more marvellous than imagination, was the face of the loveliest woman he had ever seen.

CHAPTER VII

There was no wandering alone on the quay for Merefleet that night. It was very warm and he sat on the terrace with his American friend. Far away over at New Silverstrand, a band was playing, and the music came floating across the harbour with the silvery sweetness which water imparts. The lights of the new town were very bright. It looked like a dream-city seen from afar.

“I guess we are just a couple of Peris shut outside,” said Mab in her brisk, unsentimental voice. “I like it best outside, don’t you, Big Bear?”