Part 12 (1/2)

Mrs. Collier and her friend had not explored the grounds of Government House for over ten minutes before Sir Charles felt that many years ago he had personally arranged their visit, that he had known them for even a longer time, and that, now that they had finally arrived, they must never depart.

To them there was apparently nothing on his domain which did not thrill with delightful interest. They were as eager as two children at a pantomime, and as unconscious. As a rule, Sir Charles had found it rather difficult to meet the women of his colony on a path which they were capable of treading intelligently. In fairness to them, he had always sought out some topic in which they could take an equal part--something connected with the conduct of children, or the better ventilation of the new school-house and chapel. But these new-comers did not require him to select topics of conversation; they did not even wait for him to finish those which he himself introduced. They flitted from one end of the garden to the other with the eagerness of two mids.h.i.+pmen on sh.o.r.e leave, and they found something to enjoy in what seemed to the Governor the most commonplace of things. The Zouave uniform of the sentry, the old Spanish cannon converted into peaceful gate-posts, the aviary with its screaming paroquets, the botanical station, and even the ice-machine were all objects of delight.

On the other hand, the interior of the famous palace, which had been sent out complete from London, and which was wont to fill the wives of the colonials with awe or to reduce them to whispers, for some reason failed of its effect. But they said they ”loved” the large gold V. R.'s on the back of the Councillors' chairs, and they exclaimed aloud over the red leather despatch-boxes and the great seal of the colony, and the mysterious envelopes marked ”On her Majesty's service.”

”Isn't it too exciting, Florence?” demanded Mrs. Collier. ”This is the table where Sir Charles sits and writes letters' on her Majesty's service,' and presses these b.u.t.tons, and war-s.h.i.+ps spring up in perfect shoals. Oh, Robert,” she sighed, ”I do wish you had been a Governor!”

The young lady called Florence stood looking down into the great arm-chair in front of the Governor's table.

”May I?” she asked. She slid fearlessly in between the oak arms of the chair and smiled about her. Afterwards Sir Charles remembered her as she appeared at that moment with the red leather of the chair behind her, with her gloved hands resting on the carved oak, and her head on one side, smiling up at him. She gazed with large eyes at the blue linen envelopes, the stiff doc.u.ments in red tape, the tray of black sand, and the goose-quill pens.

”I am now the Countess Zika,” she announced; ”no, I am Diana of the Crossways, and I mean to discover a state secret and sell it to the Daily Telegraph. Sir Charles,” she demanded, ”if I press this electric b.u.t.ton is war declared anywhere, or what happens?”

”That second b.u.t.ton,” said Sir Charles, after deliberate scrutiny, ”is the one which communicates with the pantry.”

The Governor would not consider their returning to the yacht for luncheon.

”You might decide to steam away as suddenly as you came,” he said, gallantly, ”and I cannot take that chance. This is Bachelor's Hall, so you must pardon my people if things do not go very smoothly.” He himself led them to the great guest-chamber, where there had not been a guest for many years, and he noticed, as though for the first time, that the halls through which they pa.s.sed were bare, and that the floor was littered with unpacked boxes and gun-cases. He also observed for the first time that maps of the colony, with the coffee-plantations and mahogany belt marked in different inks, were not perhaps so decorative as pictures and mirrors and family portraits. And he could have wished that the native servants had not stared so admiringly at the guests, nor directed each other in such aggressive whispers. On those other occasions, when the wives of the Councillors came to the semi-annual dinners, the native servants had seemed adequate to all that was required of them. He recollected with a flush that in the town these semi-annual dinners were described as banquets. He wondered if to these visitors from the outside world it was all equally provincial.

But their enjoyment was apparently unfeigned and generous. It was evident that they had known each other for many years, yet they received every remark that any of them made as though it had been p.r.o.nounced by a new and interesting acquaintance. Sir Charles found it rather difficult to keep up with the talk across the table, they changed the subject so rapidly, and they half spoke of so many things without waiting to explain. He could not at once grasp the fact that people who had no other position in the world save that of observers were speaking so authoritatively of public men and public measures. He found, to his delight, that for the first time in several years he was not presiding at his own table, and that his guests seemed to feel no awe of him.

”What's the use of a yacht nowadays?” Collier was saying--”what's the use of a yacht, when you can go to sleep in a wagon-lit at the Gare du Nord, and wake up at Vladivostok? And look at the time it saves; eleven days to Gib, six to Port Said, and fifteen to Colombo--there you are, only half-way around, and you're already sixteen days behind the man in the wagon-lit.”

”But n.o.body wants to go to Vladivostok,” said Miss Cameron, ”or anywhere else in a wagon-lit. But with a yacht you can explore out-of-the-way places, and you meet new and interesting people. We wouldn't have met Sir Charles if we had waited for a wagon-lit.” She bowed her head to the Governor, and he smiled with grat.i.tude. He had lost Mr. Collier somewhere in the Indian Ocean, and he was glad she had brought them back to the Windless Isles once more.

”And again I repeat that the answer to that is, 'Why not? said the March Hare,'” remarked Mr. Collier, determinedly.

The answer, as an answer, did not strike Sir Charles as a very good one.

But the ladies seemed to comprehend, for Miss Cameron said: ”Did I tell you about meeting him at Oxford just a few months before his death--at a children's tea-party? He was so sweet and understanding with them!

Two women tried to lionize him, and he ran away and played with the children. I was more glad to meet him than any one I can think of. Not as a personage, you know, but because I felt grateful to him.”

”Yes, that way, distinctly,” said Mrs. Collier. ”I should have felt that way towards Mrs. Ewing more than any one else.”

”I know, 'Jackanapes,'” remarked Collier, shortly; ”a brutal a.s.sault upon the feelings, I say.”

”Some one else said it before you, Robert,” Mrs. Collier commented, calmly. ”Perhaps Sir Charles met him at Apia.” They all turned and looked at him. He wished he could say he had met him at Apia. He did not quite see how they had made their way from a children's tea party at Oxford to the South Pacific islands, but he was anxious to join in somewhere with a clever observation. But they never seemed to settle in one place sufficiently long for him to recollect what he knew of it. He hoped they would get around to the west coast of Africa in time. He had been Governor of Sierra Leone for five years.

His success that night at dinner on the yacht was far better. The others seemed a little tired after the hours of sight-seeing to which he had treated them, and they were content to listen. In the absence of Mr.

Clarges, who knew them word by word, he felt free to tell his three stories of life at Sierra Leone. He took his time in the telling, and could congratulate himself that his efforts had never been more keenly appreciated. He felt that he was holding his own.

The night was still and warm, and while the men lingered below at the table, the two women mounted to the deck and watched the lights of the town as they vanished one by one and left the moon in unchallenged possession of the harbor. For a long time Miss Cameron stood silent, looking out across the bay at the sh.o.r.e and the hills beyond. A fish splashed near them, and the sound of oars rose from the mist that floated above the water, until they were m.u.f.fled in the distance. The palms along the sh.o.r.e glistened like silver, and overhead the Southern Cross shone white against a sky of purple. The silence deepened and continued for so long a time that Mrs. Collier felt its significance, and waited for the girl to end it.

Miss Cameron raised her eyes to the stars and frowned. ”I am not surprised that he is content to stay here,” she said. ”Are you? It is so beautiful, so wonderfully beautiful.”

For a moment Mrs. Collier made no answer. ”Two years is a long time, Florence,” she said; ”and he is all I have; he is not only my only brother, he is the only living soul who is related to me. That makes it harder.”

The girl seemed to find some implied reproach in the speech, for she turned and looked at her friend closely. ”Do you feel it is my fault, Alice?” she asked.

The older woman shook her head. ”How could it be your fault?” she answered. ”If you couldn't love him enough to marry him, you couldn't, that's all. But that is no reason why he should have hidden himself from all of us. Even if he could not stand being near you, caring as he did, he need not have treated me so. We have done all we can do, and Robert has been more than fine about it. He and his agents have written to every consul and business house in Central America, and I don't believe there is a city that he hasn't visited. He has sent him money and letters to every bank and to every post-office--”

The girl raised her head quickly.