Part 47 (1/2)

”Robert, I want you.”

The use of his Christian name created something akin to a sensation.

Sir Arthur Deane was startled, even in his immeasurable delight at finding his child uninjured--the picture of rude health and happiness.

Anstruther advanced.

”This is my father,” she cried, shrill with joy. ”And, father darling, this is Captain Robert Anstruther, to whom alone, under G.o.d's will, I owe my life, many, many times since the moment the _Sirdar_ was lost.”

It was no time for questioning. Sir Arthur Deane took off his hat and held out his hand--

”Captain Anstruther,” he said, ”as I owe you my daughter's life, I owe you that which I can never repay. And I owe you my own life, too, for I could not have survived the knowledge that she was dead.”

Robert took the proffered hand--

”I think, Sir Arthur, that, of the two, I am the more deeply indebted.

There are some privileges whose value cannot be measured, and among them the privilege of restoring your daughter to your arms takes the highest place.”

Then, being much more self-possessed than the older man, who was naturally in a state of agitation that was almost painful, he turned to Iris.

”I think,” he said, ”that your father should take you on board the _Orient_, Iris. There you may, perhaps, find some suitable clothing, eat something, and recover from the exciting events of the morning. Afterwards, you must bring Sir Arthur ash.o.r.e again, and we will guide him over the island. I am sure you will find much to tell him meanwhile.”

The baronet could not fail to note the manner in which these two addressed each other, the fearless love which leaped from eye to eye, the calm acceptance of a relations.h.i.+p not be questioned or gainsaid.

Robert and Iris, without spoken word on the subject, had tactily agreed to avoid the slightest semblance of subterfuge as unworthy alike of their achievements and their love. Yet what could Sir Arthur Deane do?

To frame a suitable protest at such a moment was not to be dreamed of.

As yet he was too shaken to collect his thoughts. Anstruther's proposal, however, helped him to blurt out what he intuitively felt to be a disagreeable fact. Yet something must be said, for his brain reeled.

”Your suggestion is admirable,” he cried, striving desperately to affect a careless complaisance. ”The s.h.i.+p's stores may provide Iris with some sort of rig-out, and an old friend of hers is on board at this moment, little expecting her presence. Lord Ventnor has accompanied me in my search. He will, of course, be delighted--”

Anstruther flushed a deep bronze, but Iris broke in--

”Father, why did _he_ come with you?”

Sir Arthur, driven into this sudden squall of explanation, became dignified.

”Well, you see, my dear, under the circ.u.mstances, he felt an anxiety almost commensurate with my own.”

”But why, why?”

Iris was quite calm. With Robert near, she was courageous. Even the perturbed baronet experienced a new sensation as his troubled glance fell before her searching eyes. His daughter had left him a joyous, heedless girl. He found her a woman, strong, self-reliant, purposeful.

Yet he kept on, choosing the most straightforward means as the only honorable way of clearing a course so beset with unsuspected obstacles.

”It is only reasonable, Iris, that your affianced husband should suffer an agony of apprehension on your account, and do all that was possible to effect your rescue.”

”My--affianced--husband?”

”Well, my dear girl, perhaps that is hardly the correct phrase from your point of view. Yet you cannot fail to remember that Lord Ventnor--”

”Father, dear,” said Iris solemnly, but in a voice free from all uncertainty, ”my affianced husband stands here! We plighted our troth at the very gate of death. It was ratified in the presence of G.o.d, and has been blessed by Him. I have made no compact with Lord Ventnor. He is a base and unworthy man. Did you but know the truth concerning him you would not mention his name in the same breath with mine. Would he, Robert?”