A Colony of Girls Part 31

"Let fall! Give way!"

Two oars struck the water with a splash, and the dingey shot out from the gang steps of the _Sylph_ the steady strokes of two st.u.r.dy sailors sending the little craft swiftly on its way. The owner lounged lazily in the cus.h.i.+oned stern, one leg swung over the other, the tiller-ropes held loosely in his hands. They were sweeping under the stern of the _Vortex_ when a voice from the schooner's deck hailed them. The sailors held their oars suspended, and Churchill pushed back his cap and looked up, frowning slightly, for the sun was in his eyes.

"h.e.l.lo, Farr."

"h.e.l.lo, old man. Going ash.o.r.e?"

"Yes. Want a lift?"

"Thanks, if you don't mind putting back."

"Not a bit of it."

The orders were given, and the dingey brought up to the gang steps.

Farr sprang in and they pushed off, heading once more for land.

Churchill pulled a cigar-case from his pocket and held it out to his companion, and then a brief silence ensued while each procured a light.

"You've been something of a recluse for the last few days, Farr; I haven't seen you about. Been sticking close to your quarters?"

"I've been grinding at the charts. Our stay here is about at an end, and Dodd is a little dissatisfied with the progress of our work.

Through one cause and another we have been delayed, and the work has dragged."

"That doesn't seem to concern Dudley at all. He's ash.o.r.e most of the time."

Farr laughed indulgently.

"Oh! Dudley's a lazy Southerner. You can't hustle him. He's the salt of the earth, when you have plenty of time; but you can't impress him with the necessity of haste."

"When do you go, old man?"

Farr took his cigar from between his lips, and watched the cloud of smoke as the breeze bore it far astern.

"I don't know exactly," he answered slowly. "Within the next week or ten days surely."

"You will be very much missed," said Churchill heartily; "yet I suppose it has been slow work for you."

Farr looked contemplatively down at the lighted end of his cigar.

"No. I shall be sorry to go."

After a slight pause he added:

"What has been going on?"

"Nothing much. Andrews has gone up to town. Miss Stuart is still at the manor; but, of course, that is no news to you."

"I imagined she had not left," returned Farr indifferently. "I am going to call there this afternoon."

"Suppose, then, you meet me here; say in a couple of hours," suggested Churchill, as he brought the dingey up to the float, "and go out and dine with me aboard the _Sylph_. I am by myself, for Andrews is away, and Archer is engaged."

"Thanks. I will be delighted."

Churchill turned to the sailor who stood erect in the boat, awaiting his orders.

"At six sharp, Petersen, and tell the steward there will be two for dinner."

Then the two men turned on their heels and strode briskly up the sandy road. Presently their paths diverged, and with a friendly nod they separated.

Farr went along in the direction of the manor at a swinging gait. He had not seen Jean since the night of the dance. In the events of that evening his love for her had sustained a severe shock. He could not at once readjust himself to this new and unwelcome development in the nature of her to whom he had given his deepest and most loyal allegiance. Heretofore he had found his love for her intensified by her coldness and indifference, but her flirtation with Maynard was not the sort of thing he had expected from her, and it disappointed him bitterly. The world condoned many of Maynard's offenses because he possessed a certain charm and amiability of manner, but Farr was too clean-minded and upright to look lightly upon the man's selfish disregard of every moral obligation, and he was impatient of his ill-deserved popularity. That Jean should show this man so marked a preference was to him incomprehensible. It was possible that she did not know the full truth in regard to him, but even her innocence and unworldliness could not altogether s.h.i.+eld her from blame, for she did know that he was a faithless husband, and, moreover, his wife was her friend. Under any other circ.u.mstances Farr would have been jealous, but now the sharpness of his disappointment in Jean outweighed every other consideration. She had been to him the embodiment of sweetness and purity, and as he paced up and down the white decks of the _Vortex_, he inveighed bitterly against this second overthrow of his faith. His anger was short-lived, however, for the tender little Jean of the early summer had twined herself closely about his heart; and now she rose, strong in the power and might of her love, denying valiantly that other self, pleading earnestly for more confidence and trust. So it happened this suns.h.i.+ny day that, as Farr leaned against the rail, gazing seaward, and pondered on these strange and contradictory events, suddenly the bitterness died out of his heart, and in its place sprang up a pa.s.sionate longing to see Jean, to hear her sweet voice tell him it was all a mistake, to put an end forever to this intolerable uncertainty. And even as he came to this conclusion, the dingey from the _Sylph_ hove in view, and, without pausing to reconsider, he hailed it.

Now he had left the manor gates behind, and striking out across the lawn, increased his pace, for his impatience would not be curbed. The crunching sound of wheels on the gravel brought him to a standstill.

On his right a clump of cedars hid the road from sight. He thrust aside the low-growing branches, and as he peered through the aperture a carriage flashed by. Jean was driving, and he had a tantalizing glimpse of her bonny face, as she turned to speak to Eleanor and Cliff, who were on the back seat. An involuntary exclamation escaped him, and he sprang forward, but his voice was unheard, his presence unheeded, and with a heavy heart he gazed after the rapidly retreating vehicle. With a savage little laugh he swung about, and retraced his steps. The joyousness of the summer day was darkened for him, and in his heart was a fierce resentment against Fate.

His eyes were bent upon the ground as he plodded slowly along the road, and so he did not see Miss Stuart, driving alone in Helen's buckboard, until she was within a few yards of him.

Miss Stuart scanned his face furtively as he stood beside the carriage.

"Ah, Val," she said with an a.s.sumption of ease, "I suppose you have been at the manor?"

"No, I met them driving."

"How inhospitable of them not to have turned back," she exclaimed, with her eyes still on his face.

Farr was too obtuse to appreciate the drift of her remark.

"I was unfortunate. They did not see me."

Miss Stuart's brows contracted in a frown, and she flicked the long lash of her whip.

"You are not flattering, Val. I was at home."

He looked up at her quickly, a vague surprise in his eyes.

"I would not venture to inflict myself on you!" he replied with a careless laugh, and then he stood back a step, and raised his hat.

Miss Stuart's face flushed angrily, but she had no alternative but to drive on. As she gathered up the reins she shot a glance over her shoulder at Farr, but already he had turned away, and was moving rapidly down the road. She cut the horse with the whip, and in her heart was a burning desire to revenge herself on Jean.

As they took their places about the dinner-table at the manor that evening, Nathalie made some casual mention of the _Vortex_, thus giving Miss Stuart the pretext she sought.

"By the way," she said, fixing her eyes on Jean's face, although her words were addressed to Helen, "on my way home this afternoon after I left you, I met Mr. Farr and had such a pleasant chat with him. He was on his way to call on us, but as he met me, I suppose----" She broke off with a charming air of embarra.s.sment.

Jean raised her head proudly, and met Miss Stuart's gaze with unflinching eyes.

"You should have brought Mr. Farr back to tea," she said, so unconcernedly that even Helen was deceived, and Miss Stuart was stirred with a pa.s.sing feeling of admiration.

But the effort cost Jean a pang, and as she turned her eyes slowly away, there was a great coldness at her heart.