Charlie to the Rescue Part 13

"And what did _he_ say?" asked Shank, forgetting the parental _role_ for a moment, and looking at May with a humorous smile.

"Indeed I can hardly tell. He made a great many absurd protestations, begged me to give him no decided answer just then, and said something about letting him write to me, but all I am quite sure of is that at last I had the courage to utter a very decided _No_, and then ran away and left him."

"That was too sharp, May. Ralph is a first-rate fellow, with capital prospects. His father is rich and can give him a good start in life.

He may come back in a few years with a fortune--not a bad kind of husband for a penniless la.s.s."

"Shank!" exclaimed May, letting go her brother's arm and facing him with flas.h.i.+ng eyes and heightened colour, "do you really think that a fortune would make me marry a man whom I did not love?"

"Certainly not, my dear sis," said the youth, taking May's hand and drawing it again through his arm with an approving smile. "I never for a moment thought you capable of such meanness, but that is a very different thing from slamming the door in a poor fellow's face. You're not in love with anybody else. Ralph is a fine handsome young fellow.

You might grow to like him in time--and if you did, a fortune, of course, would be no disadvantage. Besides, he is to be my travelling companion, and might write to you about me if I were ill, or chanced to meet with an accident and were unable to write myself--don't you know?"

"He could in that case write to mother," said May, simply.

"So he could!" returned Shank, laughing. "I never thought o' that, my sharp sister."

They had reached the sh.o.r.e by that time. The tide was out; the sea was calm and the sun glinted brightly on the wavelets that sighed rather than broke upon the sands.

For some distance they sauntered in silence by the margin of the sea.

The mind of each was busy with the same thought. Each was aware of that, and for some time neither seemed able to break the silence. The timid girl recovered her courage before the self-reliant man!

"Dear Shank," she said, pressing his arm, "you will probably be away for years."

"Yes, May--at least for a good long time."

"Oh forgive me, brother," continued the girl, with sudden earnestness, "but--but--you know your--your weakness--"

"Ay, May, I know it. Call it sin if you will--and my knowledge of it has something to do with my present determination, for, weak though I am, and bad though you think me--"

"But I _don't_ think you _bad_, dear Shank," cried May, with tearful eyes; "I never said so, and never thought so, and--"

"Come, come, May," interrupted the youth, with something of banter in his manner, "you don't think me _good_, do you?"

"Well, no--not exactly," returned May, faintly smiling through her tears.

"Well, then, if I'm not good I must be bad, you know. There's no half-way house in this matter."

"Is there not, Shank? Is there not _very_ good and _very_ bad?"

"Oh, well, if you come to that there's pretty-good, and rather-bad, and a host of other houses between these, such as goodish and baddish, but not one of them can be a _half-way_ house."

"Oh yes, one of them _can_--_must_ be."

"Which one, you little argumentative creature?" asked Shank.

"Why, middling-good of course."

"Wrong!" cried her brother, "doesn't middling-bad stand beside it, with quite as good a claim to be considered half-way? However, I won't press my victory too far. For the sake of peace we will agree that these are semi-detached houses in one block--and that will block the subject.

But, to be serious again," he added, stopping and looking earnestly into his sister's face, "I wanted to speak to you on this weakness--this sin--and I thank you for breaking the ice. The truth is that I have felt for a good while past that conviviality--"

"Strong drink, brother, call it by its right name," said May, gently pressing the arm on which she leaned.

"Well--have it so. Strong drink has been getting the better of me--mind I don't admit it _has_ got the better of me yet--only _is getting_--and convivial comrades have had a great deal to do with it. Now, as you know, I'm a man of some decision of character, and I had long ago made up my mind to break with my companions. Of course I could not very well do this while--while I was--well, no matter why, but this offer just seemed to be a sort of G.o.dsend, for it will enable me to cut myself free at once, and the sea breezes and Rocky Mountain air and gold-hunting will, I expect, take away the desire for strong drink altogether."

"I hope it will--indeed I am _sure_ it will if it is G.o.d's way of leading you," said May, with an air of confidence.

"Well, I don't know whether it is G.o.d who is leading me or--"

"Did you not call it a G.o.d-send just now--"

"Oh, but that's a mere form of speech, you know. However, I do know that it was on this very beach where we now stand that a friend led me for the first time to think seriously of this matter--more than a year ago."

"Indeed--who was it?" asked May eagerly.

"My chum and old school-fellow, poor Charlie Brooke," returned Shank, in a strangely altered voice.

Then he went on to tell of the conversation he and his friend had had on that beach, and it was not till he had finished that he became aware that his sister was weeping.

"Why, May, you're crying. What's the matter?"

"G.o.d bless him!" said May in fervent yet tremulous tones as she looked up in her brother's face. "Can you wonder at my feeling so strongly when you remember how kind Charlie always was to you--to all of us indeed--ever since he was a little boy at school with you; what a true-hearted and steady friend he has always been. And you called him poor Charlie just now, as if he were dead."

"True indeed, it is very, very sad, for we have great reason to fear the worst, and I have strong doubt that I shall never see my old chum again.

But I won't give up hope, for it is no uncommon thing for men to be lost at sea, for years even, and to turn up at last, having been cast away on a desert island, like Robinson Crusoe, or something of that sort."

The thoughts which seemed to minister consolation to Shank Leather did not appear to afford much comfort to his sister, who hung her head and made no answer, while her companion went on--

"Yes, May, and poor Charlie was the first to make me feel as if I were a little selfish, though that as you know, is not one of my conspicuous failings! His straightforwardness angered me a little at first, but his kindness made me think much of what he said, and--well, the upshot of it all is that I am going to California."

"I am glad--so glad and thankful he has had so much influence over you, dear Shank, and now, don't you think--that--that if Charlie were with you at this moment he would advise you not to go to Mr Smithers to consult about your plans?"

For a few moments the brother's face betrayed a feeling of annoyance, but it quickly cleared away.

"You are right, May. Smithers is too much of a convivial harum-scarum fellow to be of much use in the way of giving sound advice. I'll go to see Jamieson instead. You can have no objection to him--surely. He's a quiet, sober sort of man, and never tries to tempt people or lead them into mischief--which is more than can be said of the other fellow."

"That is a very negative sort of goodness," returned May, smiling.

"However, if you must go to see some one, Jamieson is better than Smithers; but why not come home and consult with mother and me?"

"Pooh! what can women know about such matters? No, no, May, when a fellow has to go into the pros and cons of Californian life it must be with _men_."

"H'm! the men you a.s.sociate with, having been at school and the desk all their lives up till now, must be eminently fitted to advise on Californian life! That did not occur to me at the first blus.h.!.+" said May demurely.

"Go home, you cynical baggage, and help mother to knit," retorted Shank, with a laugh. "I intend to go and see Jamieson."

And he went. And the negatively good Jamieson, who never led people into temptation, had no objection to be led into that region himself, so they went together to make a pa.s.sing call--a mere look in--on Smithers, who easily induced them to remain. The result was that the unselfish man with decision of character returned home in the early hours of morning--"screwed."

CHAPTER TEN.