Читать книгу A Bachelor Husband - Ruby M. Ayres - Страница 7

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"Thy friend will come to thee unsought

With nothing can his love be bought;

Trust him greatly and for aye,

A true friend comes but once your way."

CHRIS LAWLESS came back into the hotel lounge almost as soon as his wife and young Atkins had left it. He looked quickly round for Marie.

His conscience had begun to prick him a little. He had noticed the pallor of Marie's face at breakfast time, and the something strained in her determined cheeriness, and, good fellow as he really was at heart, he felt unhappy.

He had meant to do the right thing by her when he married her. He had always prided himself upon being a sportsman. He had no intention of allowing people to say that he neglected his wife, or that his marriage had turned out a failure. He liked everything he undertook to be a success.

And he was fond of Marie! He had always been fond of her in his own way. There was no earthly reason that he could see why they should not get on ideally well together.

But Marie was not in the lounge. He looked round with a slight frown, and his gaze fell upon Feathers, yawning behind his paper.

Chris went up to him.

"Where's Marie?"

"She went out just now with Atkins. I heard them say something about a swim."

Chris looked annoyed.

"She ought to have waited for me," he said shortly. "Atkins takes too much upon himself."

39 Feathers rose and threw down his paper.

"They've only just gone," he said. "We can catch them up if you come now."

But Chris was thoroughly out of temper. He had letters to write, he said, and no doubt Marie would be back before long. He turned away and Feathers strolled out into the sunshine alone.

He knew to which beach Marie and Atkins had gone, and he sauntered slowly along in that direction.

It was a glorious morning, and the sea front was crowded. The hot sun beat down on his uncovered head and dark face, and one or two women looked after him interestedly.

Feathers was not just merely ugly to all women. Some of them realized the strength and character in his face, and with true femininity wondered what his wife was like!

But Feathers was unmarried, and fully intended to remain so. He had spent a roving life, and always declared that he was not going to put on a clean collar or wash his hands unless he felt inclined to for any woman's sake.

"Not that any woman is ever likely to interest herself either in my hands or collars," he added ruefully.

Chris had sworn eternal bachelorhood also, which partly accounted for Feathers' disgust when he wrote to him of his intended marriage.

He had written back a sarcastic letter which Chris had carefully destroyed without showing it to Marie.

"I never thought you were a petticoat follower … What in the name of all that's holy has made you change your mind? Is it money, brains, or merely a pretty face? No, I will not be your best man—I won't even come to your beastly wedding. If you choose to get into a tangle like this you can do so without my assistance, and later on, if you want to get out of it, don't come crying to me for help either. I wash my hands of you!"

He had been quite prepared to dislike Marie, and was surprised because he did not; but then—so he argued to himself—how could anybody dislike such a child? And his sentiments veered right round 40 the other way, until he decided that in all probability she would need protecting from Chris, though why, or in what way, he had not the smallest idea.

But he had offered her his friendship in all good faith, and was feeling a little sore at the manner of her refusal as he strolled along now in the sunshine through the crowds of holiday-makers, keeping a careless look-out for young Atkins.

There were a great many people bathing, and he stopped for a moment, one foot on the low railing that divided the promenade from the beach, scanning the water.

There was a good deal of laughter and chattering and screaming going on amongst the girls and women in the water, and he watched them with a sort of amused contempt. Why did they bathe if they found it so cold, and what fun could there be in standing in a few inches of water shivering and screaming?

And then all at once a change came over the whole scene. From light-hearted frivolity it seemed to turn to panic and fear. People left their seats on the parade and crowded down to the sands. A man's voice, frantic and agonized, raised itself above all the chatter and noise.

Feathers knew instinctively what had happened. He vaulted the low railing and ran across the sands, tearing off his coat as he went.

He kicked off his shoes at the water's edge and dashed into the sea, wading until the depths took him off his feet, and then swimming strongly.

A boat was circling round and round helplessly some way beyond the diving board. A youth in a wet bathing suit, white as a ghost and shivering with fright, was bending low over its bow, searching the smooth water with terrified eyes; when he caught sight of Feathers he broke into agonized words:

"Feathers! For God's sake! She's gone! Mrs. Lawless! She screamed and I tried to get to her … I was too late, and she went down … It must have been cramp—she was all right a moment before … Oh, 41 for God's sake!"

He dived from the boat to his friend's side but Feathers shook him off.

"Get away … you fool! Can't you see you're hampering me?"

He dived again and again, desperately swimming under water in a vain search for the drowning girl.

Young Atkins had clambered back to the boat. He sat there in the hot sunshine, his face in his hands, sobbing like a woman.

He felt that it was all his fault He knew he could never be able to face Chris again. Over and over in his mind rang the tragic words: "And she was only married yesterday! Only married yesterday!"

At that moment he would gladly have given his life for hers. He felt that he would not go on living if she had gone.

And then a sudden wild shout went up from the crowds on the beach. Young Atkins looked up, not daring to hope, and there in the sea, only a few yards from the boat, the rough dark head of Feathers appeared above the smooth water, swimming strongly with one arm and supporting a small, helpless object with the other.

He seemed to have forgotten the boat, for he made straight for the shore, and though eager men waded out to his help, and a dozen pairs of arms were stretched out to take his burden from him, he shook his head and held her jealously.

"Beauty and the beast!" someone whispered as the tall, ugly man waded ashore with the girl's limp body in his arms.

Perhaps he heard, for at any rate a faint, grim smile crossed his dark face as he laid her down on the warm sands.

There was a doctor amongst the crowd, and a little group closed about her, chafing her limbs, working her arms up and down, frantically trying to beat life back into the inert little body.

42 Feathers stood by breathing hard, the water dripping from him.

He kept his eyes fixed on Marie's deathly face.

A woman in the crowd began to cry, "Poor child! Poor child!" For Marie Celeste looked only a child as she lay there, her wet hair tumbled all around her.

"It's too late, she's gone!" someone else said, hopelessly, and Feathers turned like a lion.

"It's not too late," he thundered. He went down on his knees beside her, exhausted as he was, and worked like a giant to save her, and all the time he was wondering what Chris would do, what Chris would say, and if he would be expected to break the news to him.

And then, after a long time, a little shell-like tinge of color crept back to the marble whiteness of Marie's face—the doctor gave a little exclamation, and went on with his work harder than before.

Feathers asked him a harsh question:

"Can we save her?"

"I think so—yes! … "

Each moment seemed an eternity, until, with labored, choking breaths and little gasping cries, Marie struggled back to life and the golden summer morning.

Feathers rose to his feet. "I'll go on and tell her husband. You're sure she's out of danger?"

The doctor smiled, well pleased.

"Oh, she's all right now." He turned to the stretcher upon which they had laid the girl, and Feathers started to walk away, but the crowd would not have this. They surged round him, slapping him on the back and cheering him to the echo. They were only too eager and willing to give praise where it was due, and at last, in desperation, Feathers broke into a run and eluded them.

He went into the hotel across the garden, and through a side door, his dripping clothes leaving little wet marks all the way. He met one of the porters in the passage. The man stopped with a gasp of dismay.

"Good heavens, sir! Has there been an accident?"

"Yes, one of the ladies here, a Mrs. Lawless, but she's all right 43 now. Can you find her husband for me? He's probably in the writing- room. Do you know him?"

"Oh, yes, sir, but … "

"Well, clear off and fetch him, then! I'm all right—don't make a fuss. They're bringing her here. Hurry, man, hurry!"

He was back in a moment with Chris, looking greatly mystified and not at all upset, for the porter had been afraid to tell him the truth of what had happened, and had merely said he was wanted.

Feathers explained in a few words.

"Mrs. Lawless got out of her depths or got cramp or something, but she's all right. She had a nasty scare, though. It's all right; they're bringing her along."

Chris went dreadfully white. He clutched his friend's arm. "You're not lying to me!" he said, hoarsely. "She's not—dead!"

Feathers laughed. "Good lord, man, no! I tell you it's all right. She got a bit of a ducking. She's probably back in the hotel by this time; you'd better go and see for yourself."

But Chris had gone before he had finished speaking, and Feathers crept away up to his room and peeled off his sodden clothes.

He felt very exhausted now it was all over. It had been a ghastly five minutes when he dived again and again into that still green water. He felt that he would never care for the sea in the same way any more.

Supposing she had been drowned! Although he knew that she was safe and well, and to-morrow would probably be none the worse for her accident. Feathers involuntarily echoed the words of the woman in the crowd who had wept.

"Poor child! poor child!"

He laughed at himself directly afterwards, as he got into a dry suit, tried to reduce some sort of order to his unruly hair, and went downstairs.

He was a simple sort of fellow, and thought so little of his own action that it gave him a positive shock when the visitors in the lounge insisted on giving him a cheer as he went through. The news 44 of what had occurred had spread like wildfire and, red faced and frowning angrily. Feathers had to submit to being made a hero.

Mrs. Heriot, who had hitherto deliberately avoided him, insisted on shaking hands, and gushed that she was 80 proud of him, so delighted to know such a brave man.

Feathers turned on her almost fiercely.

"It's all rubbish," he declared. "I happened to be the nearest, that was all! For heaven's sake, Mrs. Heriot, say no more!"

He went without his lunch because he could not bear the battery of eyes which he knew would be upon him all the time. He sat up in his own room reading until Atkins, still pale and shaken, came knocking at the door.

Feathers said, "Come in," not very pleasantly, and the boy went across to him and held out an unsteady hand.

"I say, you're a ripping sport!" he said in heartfelt tones. "If she'd gone I should have jumped in and drowned myself; I swear I should."

"And a lot of good that would have done," Feathers said dryly. "For heaven's sake, chuck it, young 'un, and talk about something we can all enjoy."

But Atkins apparently could talk of nothing else, and he kept harping on the same subject until in desperation Feathers took him by the shoulders and put him outside.

Even then there was no peace, for almost directly Chris himself arrived.

"They tell me you saved her life," he said agitatedly. "I ought to have guessed! It's the kind of thing you would do. I can't—can't tell you how grateful I am. If anything had happened to her … "

Feathers chucked the book he was reading across the room with violence.

"Well, nothing has happened to her," he said crossly. "So, for the love of Mike, shut up!" He walked over to the window. "I suppose she is all right?" he asked casually.

"She's weak, of course, but the doctor says she'll be quite herself in a day or two." Chris hesitated. "She'd like to see you, Feathers."

Feathers ran a distracted hand across his hair.

45 "More heroics!" he said savagely. "Well, I refuse! I absolutely refuse! I hate this tommyrot, I tell you!"

Chris looked offended. "I think she'll be hurt if you don't go." he said diffidently.

There was a little silence.

"Oh, all right!" Feathers turned resignedly to the door. "Do I go now, and do you come with me?"

"Yes."

They went out of the room together and along the corridor.

Marie was lying on a sofa by the window, wrapped in a blue woolly gown. Her dark hair was spread over the pillow behind her, and she looked very frail and wan.

She held out her hand to Feathers, smiling faintly.

"I know you'll hate it," she said weakly, "but—I want to thank you. They tell me "—her brown eyes went past him to where her husband stood—"Chris tells me that you saved my life."

Feathers managed a laugh.

"Chris exaggerates," he said uncomfortably. "I happened to be lucky enough to pull you out—that was all. I hope you'll soon feel yourself again."

"Thank you, yes." He was still holding her hand, and, suddenly realizing it, he let it go abruptly.

Chris had gone to the door with the doctor, and for a moment Marie and Feathers were alone.

"Mr. Dakers," she said hesitatingly.

"Yes."

Her brown eyes were raised to his ugly face appealingly.

"I was horrid to you this morning, I know! It was—hateful of me! But there was a reason … some day I'll tell you."

He fidgeted uncomfortably. "Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Lawless; it's all right."

"Yes, but it isn't," she insisted weakly. "And I want to say that—that if you would still like me to look upon you as—as a sort of big brother" … she smiled tremulously.

46 Feathers frowned so heavily that his eyes almost vanished beneath their shaggy brows.

"All this because I pulled you out of two feet of water?" he growled.

Tears swam into her eyes.

"It was a good deal more than two feet of water, and you know it was! And—and—it isn't anything to do with that at all! It's just you—you yourself! I should like to have you for a friend."

There was a little silence, then Feathers held out his hand.

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