Part 14 (1/2)

Isabel looked down at the hand which still bore the ring Edward had given her on their betrothal.

”I wouldn't let Edward break our engagement because I thought it would be an incentive to him. I wanted to be an inspiration to him. I thought if anything could enable him to achieve success it was the thought that I loved him. I have done all I could. It's hopeless. It would only be weakness on my part not to recognise the facts. Poor Edward, he's n.o.body's enemy but his own. He was a dear, nice fellow, but there was something lacking in him, I suppose it was backbone. I hope he'll be happy.”

She slipped the ring off her finger and placed it on the table. Bateman watched her with a heart beating so rapidly that he could hardly breathe.

”You're wonderful, Isabel, you're simply wonderful.”

She smiled, and, standing up, held out her hand to him.

”How can I ever thank you for what you've done for me?” she said.

”You've done me a great service. I knew I could trust you.”

He took her hand and held it. She had never looked more beautiful.

”Oh, Isabel, I would do so much more for you than that. You know that I only ask to be allowed to love and serve you.”

”You're so strong, Bateman,” she sighed. ”It gives me such a delicious feeling of confidence.”

”Isabel, I adore you.”

He hardly knew how the inspiration had come to him, but suddenly he clasped her in his arms, and she, all unresisting, smiled into his eyes.

”Isabel, you know I wanted to marry you the very first day I saw you,”

he cried pa.s.sionately.

”Then why on earth didn't you ask me?” she replied.

She loved him. He could hardly believe it was true. She gave him her lovely lips to kiss. And as he held her in his arms he had a vision of the works of the Hunter Motor Traction and Automobile Company growing in size and importance till they covered a hundred acres, and of the millions of motors they would turn out, and of the great collection of pictures he would form which should beat anything they had in New York.

He would wear horn spectacles. And she, with the delicious pressure of his arms about her, sighed with happiness, for she thought of the exquisite house she would have, full of antique furniture, and of the concerts she would give, and of the _thes dansants_, and the dinners to which only the most cultured people would come. Bateman should wear horn spectacles.

”Poor Edward,” she sighed.

IV

_Red_

The skipper thrust his hand into one of his trouser pockets and with difficulty, for they were not at the sides but in front and he was a portly man, pulled out a large silver watch. He looked at it and then looked again at the declining sun. The Kanaka at the wheel gave him a glance, but did not speak. The skipper's eyes rested on the island they were approaching. A white line of foam marked the reef. He knew there was an opening large enough to get his s.h.i.+p through, and when they came a little nearer he counted on seeing it. They had nearly an hour of daylight still before them. In the lagoon the water was deep and they could anchor comfortably. The chief of the village which he could already see among the coconut trees was a friend of the mate's, and it would be pleasant to go ash.o.r.e for the night. The mate came forward at that minute and the skipper turned to him.

”We'll take a bottle of booze along with us and get some girls in to dance,” he said.

”I don't see the opening,” said the mate.

He was a Kanaka, a handsome, swarthy fellow, with somewhat the look of a later Roman emperor, inclined to stoutness; but his face was fine and clean-cut.

”I'm dead sure there's one right here,” said the captain, looking through his gla.s.ses. ”I can't understand why I can't pick it up. Send one of the boys up the mast to have a look.”

The mate called one of the crew and gave him the order. The captain watched the Kanaka climb and waited for him to speak. But the Kanaka shouted down that he could see nothing but the unbroken line of foam.

The captain spoke Samoan like a native, and he cursed him freely.